Blood Oath oPatriots III THE CITADEL OF LOU MANCHU
by Lawndale Stalker
Summary: Daria struggles to finish a story that just keeps growing.
1. Default Chapter

Author's note 4/21/04: I am making another run at finishing this fic. Beginning today, I will be posting updated versions of most of the chapters, starting with chapter 3. …LS

BLOOD OATH OF PATRIOTS  
Volume III  
THE CITADEL OF LOU MANCHU  
_by_ GALEN HARDESTY  
Chapter Six  
THE LAWNMOWER MEN

(Revised and expanded 21 April 2004)

****

Scene 20: Int. Morgendorffer house, Daria's room, Saturday afternoon. Daria is seated at her computer typing. Pan/zoom in on the monitor screen, where we read:

Melody approached her house with habitual caution, or in this case, instructed Harmony to do so. Today it paid off. Two scruffy looking men were just sidling up to the front yard. Melody had Harmony park in front of the second to last house in the block before hers and reached for the small binoculars she kept in the glove box.

The tall thin one was caucasian, the shorter, stockier one Latino-ish. They were headed in the general direction of the door, but both seemed interested in the shrubbery.

Melody handed the binocs to Harmony and pulled a small fifteen-power telescope from the glove box. Higher magnification showed the tall man as having eastern european features. The other one made Melody think South American, but she couldn't be sure. They had rung the bell and were standing there swiveling their necks a lot while they waited, as if scanning the neighborhood for possible threats. They also glanced more often than seemed warranted at an old van parked across the street.

Melody turned the telescope on the van. Lettering whose freshness contrasted oddly with the van's dull, neglected paint job read 'High Regaurd Lawn Caring'. After noting that the van lacked not only a trailered riding mower but even a trailer hitch, she turned her attention to the front passenger side window. Nothing was visible therein, but she caught a flicker of movement in the rearview mirror. Laying the telescope down, she said "There's a third man in the van. I bet the first two hide in the shrubbery."

"Really? You think it's an ambush? For you?"

"More likely for me than for Prairie Dog. As far as I know, she hasn't done anything to get on anyone's hit list. If one of them hides behind that tall evergreen at the near corner of my house and the other goes into the hedge between mine and the next house, it'll be a classic Albanian Troika pattern."

"Albanian Troika pattern? I don't remember learning about that."

"It started as the Russian Troika pattern. It was originated by Smersh in the old days. The idea is to triangulate the target so he's taking fire from three sides, while holding down the danger of the ambushers hitting each other. It maximizes the effectiveness of poorly trained personnel. Smersh stopped using it when their training improved and they went to two-man teams. I think even the Albanians have stopped using it now."

"So who would these guys be?" asked Harmony.

"The tall guy could be Albanian or Bulgarian, the other one looks Central or South American, and we can't see the third person. They don't look like heavy enough hitters to have been sent after me, unless there's a Vulcan gun mounted in the van. Maybe they really want to mow the... nope, there they go."

Just as Melody had predicted, the tall man sloped over to the hedge separating Melody's yard from the one beyond, and the other headed for the bush at the near corner of her house. Melody pulled her Agency phone and hit a speed dial number.

"This is Sunspider. Call Prairie Dog and tell her not to go home. There's an ambush. Then give me New Threats in Ops." Melody waited a few seconds, then: "This is Sunspider reporting an ambush for Prairie Dog. An Albanian Troika in front of the house. ...It's an old ambush pattern. Three men, two hiding in the front yard and one in a van across the street. Comm Center's calling her. Request backup. Butterfly and I will wait. ...She what? How long ago? Oh, crap. She could be here in seven minutes. How close is the backup? Understood. Am engaging. Sunspider out." 

Melody closed her phone and looked over at Harmony. "Prairie Dog is on her way here and out of contact. Apparently she left her phone at HQ. The two closest Special Ops and a cleanup team are on their way, but Prairie Dog will arrive first, and probably be killed. So I'm going to take these guys out."

Harmony looked aghast. "But you can't! You're not ready! You're not healed!"

"I'm going to kill them, not wrestle them. I won't break a sweat. Drive me around the block and drop me off behind the corner house there, and I'll call when I'm done."

"The hell you say! We're doing this together, or I'll park two blocks back and go in alone!"

Melody glared at Harmony. Harmony glared right back. Finally Melody cracked a little smile. "Are you sure you're up for this? Killing isn't something everyone can do, not even everyone with Agency training."

"I'm sure. We have to do this to save Prairie Dog's life. These guys need killing. And you're my sister and you're injured. No way am I gonna let you try this alone." 

Aminanda Fogrolo crouched between the strange northern bush and the corner of the ridiculously large house. Only one small woman lived in this house that was big enough for the entire extended family in which he had grown to manhood, and most of their livestock. Often now he wished he hadn't left his family group and his tribe and their simple way of life in the jungle. These foolish people had way too many things, and they were forced to work like ugly women all day long to pay for their things and the huge houses needed to hold the things, leaving them very little time to enjoy the things.

When the Shining Path men had come into Aminanda's tribe's territory, they had told his people about the great quest they were on to free all the people from the Capitalist Opressors. Neither Aminanda nor his people had ever seen a Capitalist Opressor, but they sounded very bad. And they had had knives and machetes and other nice useful things, even guns, so Aminanda had gone with them for a while.

The Shining Path people had admired his jungle skills and had given him some nice things, and he had killed some capitalist opressors for them. And they had given him the other thing. Cocaine. At first it had seemed to magically enhance his skills and abilities, but now he knew that it did not. But now he needed it just to not feel bad. 

Aminanda took out the picture and looked at the woman's face again. He would not mind making her his woman, but he must kill her instead. Then he would get much money, enough to go back home with many things for himself and his people, enough to make him a big man. Then he could sit in a sweat bower and drink herb water and sweat the cocaine out. Just this one small woman to kill first.

They said this woman was very dangerous, very skilled at killing. They said she had killed many more men than Aminanda, and that he must be very cautious and ever alert. Aminanda doubted this. Maybe she had killed a lot of stupid unskilled Northern men, but she would have no chance against him. She would be dead before she knew he was...

Aminanda felt a small person land on his back and a small hand cover his mouth. His lightning fast reflexes... The second to last thing Aminanda felt was the very cold steel knife blade in his neck. The last thing Aminanda Fogrolo felt was very very dizzy as the blood pressure in his brain dropped suddenly to zero.

Melody jerked her hand away as soon as the man's larynx was severed and he could no longer cry out, but the blood from his carotid artery sprayed everywhere, some of it soaking the sleeve of her blouse and her lower arm. "Damn", she thought, mildly annoyed. The assassin collapsed, futilely clutching his throat. She noted the picture of herself lying on the ground by his right hand, speckled with droplets of his blood.

Melody darted around the back of her house and the back end of her neighbor's hedge. Although she knew where he was, at first she was unable to get a visual fix on the second assassin from this side. Then a branch of the hedge quivered faintly and she had him. Melody noted with amusement that a concrete goose, painted in the latest decorative art colors, was seemingly staring right at him from a few feet away. Melody smirked a bit. Okay, slight change of plans. She shifted her Swiss army knife to her left hand. 

Glancing across the street, Melody could see Harmony jogging up the sidewalk, approaching the van from behind. Her long slim legs flashed, showcased by the khaki shorts that had been slacks a few minutes ago. Her firm, perky breasts bounced just a little beneath her tank top. Her strawberry blond hair, pulled back in a ponytail, swayed enticingly. Another slight rustle of the hedge was a strong indication that target number two was also watching Harmony. 

Noiseless as a cat, Melody stole up behind the eastern european, seized the concrete goose by the neck, and swung it violently into the back of his skull. He fell out the other side of the hedge and hit her driveway like a dead man.

A second later, a muffled pistol shot sounded from across the street. Harmony jogged around the front of the van, tucking something into her waistband, then across the street and up the driveway. Melody, kneeling by the eastern european man, looked up at her. "You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," replied Harmony. Pointing with a thumb over her shoulder, she continued, "He's dead. Very black skin, probably sub-Saharan African. I could've taken him alive."

"As it turned out. But we had no way of knowing what he had in that van, or what he was prepared to do. We had to think of our safety and the safety of the neighborhood." Melody searched her sister's eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"No! He came here to kill you! He had it coming!" Harmony looked down, her expression pensive. "Well... maybe a little."

"And it should. If it ever stops bothering you, it's time to get out."

Harmony looked at her sister anxiously. "And you?"

Melody looked at the man lying immobile on her driveway, blood seeping through his hair. "That other guy... he was barefoot. His feet looked like they'd never worn shoes. He died an awful long way from home, in a strange land."

"And this guy?"

"He's not dead." Stating that simple fact brought Melody back to the exigencies of the moment. Retrieving her keyring from Harmony, she unlocked her garage door and stepped inside. She took a roll of duct tape off a shelf and handed it to Harmony. "Tape him up. I'm going to put these clothes in cold water before the bloodstains set."

Emerging from the house a few minutes later in some old clothes she hadn't taken when she'd moved out, Melody saw that the two Special Ops had arrived. One was watching the prisoner, and the other was across the street, checking out the back of the van. She approached the nearest one, remaining inside the garage. "Hi. I'm Sunspider. Call me Donna."

"Two-stroke. Call me James." James was about six feet one with light brown hair and dark blue eyes, and looked to be short of thirty. "Good work, Donna. Harmony went to get your car. The cleanup crew will be here in a couple of minutes."

"And Prairie Dog?"

"She went back to HQ to get her phone."

Melody looked down at her feet, as did James. The prostrate assassin broke the silence with a faint groan.

Harmony pulled into the driveway and as close as she could without running over the would-be hit man. Melody said,"Well, gotta go. The less my face is seen around here, the better, especially right now. Oh, tell the cleanup guys there's a concrete goose just on the other side of this hedge with my bloody handprint around its neck."

James waved and nodded as Melody slid into the passenger seat of her black Viper and Harmony backed them out of the driveway. When they were a couple of blocks away Harmony asked, "Where to? Back to HQ?"

"No. Let's go home... er, to Donna's house." Melody cast a wistful look at her house as they pulled away. "We can email our reports in, and I'm not up for another run through the parking garage today. My knife wound is mad at me for playing with that goose."

"For what?"

"I used a concrete goose to clout that second guy. It was a little heavier than optimum for a truncheon."

"Oh, no! You didn't reinjure yourself, did you?"

"No, it's just warning twinges. I'll be fine in the morning."

After a minute, Harmony asked, "D'you think that guy has information that will lead us to Loong Wang's bosses?"

"I doubt it. Whoever tricked or otherwise persuaded the Chicoms to import those eleven nukes did not send the three stooges back there to set an Albanian Troika ambush for me. They were probably freelancing, trying to collect the price on my head."

"I was thinking about that. When Loong Wang tells them you went up against three thousand Chinese Special Forces, and lived, what kind of a hit will they put out on you?"

"I've been thinking about it too. Either some sort of massive overkill, like a truck bomb, or the best hired gun on the market, or just try to be ready for me when I come to them."

"Yikes! And you've been living like this for three years?"

"They've only taken notice of me in the last year or so, and I'm just now into the 'deadliest Special Op' category. Thinking of getting your own apartment?"

"No! Not till you throw me out, or at least till you're fully recovered. Melody, there has to be a way you can retire from being deadliest Special Op besides Hunsacker's way!"

"I think it's being discussed. Now that the last of the Old Guard have retired or gone to glory, changes like that will be easier. But they'll have to work out how to do it. With me, it might require a new name and a new face. I don't know if I'd want to do that. And I don't like the idea of running and hiding just because some bad guys don't like me."

"More like ALL the bad guys. Anyway, you're kind of hiding now. You can't kill 'em all, Melody."

Melody's face contorted into a silent snarl. "I can make a sizeable dent!" 

"You already have, but they're breeding faster than you can shoot 'em. You want to see your grandchildren, don't you?"

"I don't know... do I have to have children first?"

They smirked in silence for a bit, then Melody half turned to Harmony and said, "You did well back there, Harmony. I'm proud of you. This will look very good in your record. And, since you've killed an enemy in the line of duty, you'll start getting special-duty pay."

Harmony glanced at her sister, then back to the road. "That first thing you said means a lot to me. And I guess you know I'm very proud of you."

After another short silence, Harmony asked, "What about Prairie Dog? How will this look in her record?"

Melody's small smile faded. "Not very good. She made a serious mistake, the kind of mistake that gets you killed. It's probably not enough to spoil her chances of making Special Op by itself, but she'll have to make up for it somehow, just to get back to square one. This assignment was a chance for her to help herself, like you did, but she hurt herself instead. She also embarrassed her angel."

"Angel?"

"Whoever stuck his neck out and said she was ready for this. Actually, in this case, it could have just been her resemblance to me, but usually you need someone above you who has some confidence in you to get the kind of assignment that gives you a chance to prove yourself. Remember that."

"I guess you've got gobs of angels, if you even need any anymore."

"That's not quite as great as you make it sound. When everyone thinks you can do anything, you get assignments like "Walk into enemy headquarters alone and unarmed, and see if they try to kill you."

Harmony smirked. "Awww, they wouldn't..." then she gasped. "Omigosh, they **_did! _**The Jade Dragon!"

Melody's expression did not change, but her voice took on a grim note. "Yeah. Four damn times."

Pan/zoom out from monitor screen to MS of Daria saving her work, shutting down her computer. She pockets her wallet, picks up a stack of library books, and exits.

****

Scene 21: Monday, Int. Lawndale High, hallway. Upchuck approaches Daria at her locker.

UPCHUCK: So, my luscious Lady of Letters, am I to understand that there exists an opportunity for me to play a role in your next literary masterwork?

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DARIA: Well, I suppose it's not entirely outside the bounds of the theoretically possible, providing you cease referring to me as a food item. 

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UPCHUCK: Dare I be so bold as to dream of... the male lead?

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DARIA: Why not? Dream on, smarmy one. Fortune favors the bold.

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UPCHUCK: Be still, my heart! I leap for joy!

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DARIA: But stay, O leaping lounge lizard! Pray tell, what might my motivation be to make your dreams come true? Or should I say, yet more of your dreams?

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UPCHUCK: Ah, 'tis true you played a key role in advancing my dreams of avarice. I rather feel I owe you, yet I hesitate to offer you filthy lucre, lest I insult you. 

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DARIA: He who hesitates is lost. You never feared to insult me before, though you should have.

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UPCHUCK: Very well, though I'd sooner tear out my tongue than deliberately insult the fairest flower of femininity.

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DARIA: Hmmm... I could go for that, but let's stick to currency for now.

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UPCHUCK: Rrrowwrrr, feis... (clams up at a glare from Daria) ...umm, yes, well, perhaps we should define our terms at this stage. What exactly is on offer here?

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DARIA: I base a male character in my next Melody Powers story on you, in the same sense that Melody is based on me, Harmony is based on Quinn, and so on. You don't get creative control, in any sense of the word. You get a floppy containing the story file. I retain all rights. Those rights ARE for sale, but we'd be talking some big money. You pay me, say, a thousand.

****

UPCHUCK: A thousand! For one floppy disk, no control, and no rights? Say fifty.

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DARIA: Now, _that_ is deliberately insulting, and you didn't even reach for your tongue. Do you have any idea how long it takes me to write one of these things? Goodbye, Upchuck. (spins on her heels, starts to stalk off)

****

UPCHUCK: WAIT! No insult intended! (Daria stops) A hundred? We are negotiating here, aren't we? (Daria turns) Uh, you said **_A_** male character. I'm interested in the male lead.

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DARIA: The male lead? Why not really impress me? Go for the title role!Seven fifty.

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UPCHUCK: The **title role!** Ooh, you temptress! You siren! One fifty! Uhh, just what will the title be?

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DARIA: Well, it won't be Charles Ruttheimer III Boinks Melody Powers. The title will contain the name of the character I model after you, rather in the style of the James Bond novels. Your character will have a major role, the male lead, as it stands now, and I won't insult his looks or his intelligence. Five hundred.

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UPCHUCK: Ahh, now we're getting somewhere! Throw in a love scene with Melody and I'll go two hundred.

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DARIA: I don't pimp Melody, Charles, and I don't write porn. A substantial one-on-one scene with Melody. Four fifty.

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UPCHUCK: You wound me, fair one! I meant love scene in the classic sense. A romantic type love scene. Three hundred. And the right to make and distribute copies.

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DARIA: I could write a candlelight dinner. The conversation turns to love and ...dalliance. Nothing that would get me thrown out of Cafe Lawndale or O'Neill's class. Up to twenty copies, not for profit.

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UPCHUCK: Fifty copies, and it's a deal.

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DARIA: Okay. Half now, half when it's finished. And remember, I'm the author. I don't collaborate.

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UPCHUCK: Done. (pulls out wallet, hands Daria some bills, exits.)

****

JANE: (approaches from right.) Did I just see what I think I sawn? You taking money from Upchuck? Something about a candlelight dinner? Love and dalliance?

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DARIA: (turns back to her locker and extracts a book) With your mama. I recently added her to my stable.

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JANE: If she were on this continent, I might consider punching you out. But I saw, and I heard. Spill all, or I'll graft it onto the grapevine and see what it grows into.

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DARIA: (closes locker) You just saw Upchuck pay three hundred bucks for something I did for you for free.

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JANE: Ghawd! You're buying the pizza tonight! Three toppings! And what is this three hundred buck thing that I got for free? Last time you were my love slave it cost me two bucks.

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DARIA: You must have really enjoyed being glued to Upchuck. You're awfully eager to get back on my list. I'm modeling a character after him in my next Melody Powers story.

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JANE: And he's paying three C's for that? What salesmanship! Why?

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DARIA: Well, there _is_ my salesmanship. And then there's his James Bond fixation. And he's apparently a Melody Powers fan, too. And he won a bunch of money on the Oakwood game, partly thanks to me, enough to be fast and loose with some of it. Lastly, he's getting the title role.

****

JANE: Lastly, he has a huge crush on you! Upchuck's weird, but he's a pretty shrewd businessman. He doesn't throw money around unless he's chumming for something he wants more. I gotta tell Trent to step it up! He's got competition!

****

DARIA: (shows faint beginnings of a blush) But nay, fair former maid! He may have batted an eye at me (She picks up a copy of the Lawndale Lowdown from a table in passing, opens it to page three, and hands it to Jane.) but t'is **_you_** he wed! 

(Cut to CU of paper in Jane's hands to show a photo of Jane and Upchuck pulling out of the school parking lot in the Love Machine, their right hands visibly clasped together. Jane, looking at Upchuck, has her mouth open and an intense expression on her face. Upchuck, face half turned toward Jane, seems to be smiling or grinning, but his expression is hard to read from that angle. The Just Married sign on the trunk lid is clearly legible at the bottom of the photo, and the caption reads **Lane-Ruttheimer Nuptuals** in a large typeface)

(Cut to XCU of article below photo. We read:) 

Late breaking news: Although unannounced, and coming as a surprise to many, Miss Jane Lane, 16, of Lawndale High, (above, right) has apparently given her hand in marriage to Mr. Charles Ruttheimer III, 16, also of Lawndale High (above, left). Vows were said to have been exchanged at an undisclosed location in a sparsely attended ceremony, due to the suddenness of the mutual infatuation. Further details were unavailable at press time. 

****

JANE: MORGENDORFFER!!! (looks up in time to see Daria disappearing into O'Neill's classroom.) 

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Scene 22: Int O'Neill's classroom. Mr. O'Neill is examining a copy of the Lawndale Lowdown which he has just received, as are several students. Their attention has apparently been directed to the aforementioned article. Jane enters in a towering snit, sits down at her desk next to Daria, who is writing in her notebook.

JANE: That was low, Daria, really low!

****

DARIA: I didn't write that. Nobody saw me write that. You can't prove I wrote that. Anyway it says "apparently". 

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JANE: You did, too, and I don't need proof. And you took the picture, and you gave it to the paper!

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DARIA: I couldn't help it. You're such a cute couple! You really should spend more time together. You have a lot in common. Yenta, yenta.

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JANE: I do not sound like that!

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DARIA: Do, too. And look. Out of the goodness of my heart, in the interest of accuracy in the media, I'm writing up a correction to go in the next edition of the Lowdown. (She hands Jane her notebook) You may thank me profusely now. (Cut to: CU of Daria's notebook in Jane's hand. It reads:)

New developments in Lane-Ruttheimer wedding- The report of the whirlwind courtship and storybook wedding of Jane and Charles Ruttheimer in last week's Lowdown may have been exaggerated. Upon investigation, this reporter has learned that the bonds of holy matrimony were in fact the bonds of cyanoacrylate adhesive, the result of a gluing mishap in Ms. DeFoe's art class. Following a quickie honeymoon trip to Deuce Hardware, the happy couple was separated by a can of acetone in the parking lot. The provenance of the Just Married sign on Mr. Ruttheimer's trunk lid remained a mystery at press time. 

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JANE: Jane and Charles Ruttheimer? Quickie honeymoon trip? Happy couple? You mean **_beat_** you profusely, right?! (The bell rings.)

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O'Neill: Good morning, class! Before we delve into Romeo and Juliet, it seems we have a real-life romance right here in our midst! Our own Jane Lane is newly wedded to Charles Ruttheimer! Let's all congratulate her and give her our best wishes! May their love outlast that of Romeo and Juliet! Stand up, Mrs. Ruttheimer! (He gestures to Jane, whose face holds a look of shock tinged with horror. Daria grins at Jane, begins to applaud loudly. The other students, many of whom were laughing, take up the applause.)

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JANE: AAARGH!! (grabs hair in both hands.)

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SCENE 23: Int LHS hallway. Jane is swapping books at her locker, while Daria waits. Pavlov the custodian approaches.

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PAVLOV: Ahh, Miss Morrgendorrfer! May I call you Daria? Is such beautiful Russian name!

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DARIA: Um, sure. Daria is a Russian name?

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PAVLOV: Da, da. Firrst girrl I everr kiss, back in Wolgograd, she is name Darria. I wanted to ask you, is dere any way I can get prrinted copies of yourr Melody Powerrs stories? 

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DARIA: I think that's doable. I can't print them all at once, because Li's been watching printer supplies lately. Come by my locker in a week.

****

[_Author's note: This is where I'll insert Daria and Quinn(?) reading By Any Other Name, or part of it, at the coffee shop. I haven't decided how I want to handle that yet. I may also split this chapter into two at this point, because of length and changing subject matter._]

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SCENE 24: Ext Morgendorffer house. Cut to: Int Morgendorffer house, Family Room. Daria returns home from Jane's Tuesday evening. As she enters, Daria senses something amiss. Helen is seated on the sofa, arms and legs crossed, looking stern. Quinn, looking like a whipped puppy expecting another whipping, sits on the far love seat. Her eyes immediately go to Daria's, and just as quickly look away. It takes Daria less than a second to deduce that Quinn had spilled the beans.

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HELEN: Daria, did you bet on last Friday's Lawndale Lions game?

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DARIA: (glares at Quinn, who refuses to meet her eye.) Yes.

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HELEN: Why would you do a thing like that?

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DARIA: I was overcome by school spirit. (A tiny smile appears on Quinn's face for a second.)

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HELEN: Bull. 

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DARIA: I'd've been a fool not to, given the chance. The quoted odds were ten to one because Kevin had been blowing plays all week. But when Kevin plays well, the Lions are as good as the Taproots. I'm the one who straightened him out when no one else could. Why shouldn't I reap some of the benefits?

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HELEN: Well, I'm going to make sure it's a lasting benefit. Get your checkbook or your passbook. We're going to transfer it to your college funds.

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DARIA: Quinn, is that what you want to do with your money? (Quinn looks even more unhappy, glances at Helen, then down at the floor.)

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HELEN: That's what she wants to do with it, and that's also what you want to do with yours. (accompanied her statement with a significant look)

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DARIA: (ignores the look) No, it isn't. That money is fine where it is. I'm taking very good care of it.

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HELEN: Don't argue with me, Daria. I'm surprised at you, betting on a football game like that. And encouraging Quinn to do it too. You know that's illegal. 

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DARIA: Technically, yes. But everybody does it, and no one is ever prosecuted. The law is only on the books as a pile-on charge for mobsters. And I didn't encourage anyone to do anything. I merely offered her an opportunity to win a large amount of money with a small amount of risk. A mistake I will **_not_** repeat, by the way. (shootsQuinn a look that promised hard times ahead)

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HELEN: Everybody does not do it, and that's no excuse for breaking the law.

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DARIA: All right, if you want to get specific, _you_ do it. Dad does it.

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HELEN: (looks uncomfortable) Daria, a few bucks at the office is not the same. It's a solidarity thing. I have to be one of the boys. A team player. 

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DARIA: Ah, peer pressure. I see. I can't count the times you've told us not to succumb to that.

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HELEN: (angry) You're not helping yourself, young lady. I can't allow you to squander that much money.

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DARIA: (scornful) Squander? Me, squander? You mean like on books and computer stuff and science paraphernalia? Knowledge and skills? Oh, no, can't have that. (indignant) I put that money in a bank. HHH ow is that squandering?

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HELEN: You just haven't gotten around to it yet. That kind of money has a way of burning holes in young peoples' pockets. Quinn came home with a double armload of clothes and shoes this afternoon, and didn't get a chance to hide it all before I saw it.

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DARIA: (glares at Quinn again) What does that have to do with me? You can't seriously think I'm in danger of going on a clothes shopping binge?

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HELEN: (stands up) Daria, I'm not going to sit here and argue with you till the bank closes. Get your checkbook."

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DARIA: (takes a deep breath) No. This is a recurring theme and I'm sick of it. Quinn does something stupid and you take something away from her or ground her. Then to be "fair", you take it away from me too. I'm damn tired of being punished for stuff pinhead does." (Quinn cringes a little, but keeps her eyes on the floor and says nothing.)

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HELEN: Daria, you're not being punished here, but we're talking about a lot of money of the "easy come' easy go" variety, and I just feel I need to take custody of it until you're more skilled at money management.

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DARIA: (crosses her arms and glares at Helen) "I'm skilled enough right now to know that a money market fund is as safe as a savings account and pays higher interest. That's where it's going as soon as I've chosen a fund. I'm perfectly capable of managing my own money, thank you.

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HELEN: (realizes she is making the serious parenting mistake of arguing with a child after having given an order.) I'm not going to argue with you. Your allowance is cut off until that money is transferred to your college fund.

Quinn seemed to shrink into herself. Daria continued to glare at her mother for a couple of seconds, but she realized she had lost this round. Anything she said or did now could only make matters worse. She must fall back, regroup, and formulate a new strategy. With a last murderous glance at Quinn, she headed up the stairs to get her checkbook.

The trip to the bank was made in silence. Helen's, the silence of parental authority upheld, Daria's the silence of rage suppressed, and Quinn's the silence of the lambs.

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Scene 25: Ext. Pizza KingCut to: Int. Pizza King, Daria and Jane's customary booth.

****

JANE: So why did you get sucked into it?

****

DARIA: (bitter) Because life sucks, I guess. Quinn blew all the money she'd kept out on a wild shopping binge, and Mom figured it was only a matter of time till I did the same. 

****

JANE: Daria Morgendorffer on a wild shopping binge. I'd pay a quarter to see that.

****

DARIA: Yeah, I was just on the verge of raiding Cashman's. I guess it's my own damn stupid fault for giving Quinn a chance.

****

JANE: 'No good deed goes unpunished', huh? So did you lose it all?

****

DARIA: No. I was worried about this very thing, so I moved most of it out as soon as I could open a money market account. She got seven hundred of Quinn's and eighteen hundred of mine. I told her the other two hundred was my original bet, and belonged in my cabin fund, and I didn't want to close out the account. That and starting to make a scene in the bank gave her the impression that she got most of it, I think. 

****

JANE: Wait. You moved most of it out, but there was two grand left? How much did you win, anyway?

****

DARIA: Six large. And if you snitch, you sleep with the fishes. Right alongside Quinn.

****

JANE: Damn! I'm having a little trouble picturing you laying six C's of your own money on a Lawndale Lions game.

****

DARIA: (smirks) Yeah, weird, ain't it? But I did the math, and the numbers said go for it.

****

JANE: Yeah. It was a great opportunity. I just wish I'd had more to bet myself.

****

DARIA: (blots some grease off the surface of her slice) I had more, but I didn't bet it. It was still a risk, and there were unknowns.

****

JANE: I suppose. So are you gonna leave the rest in that money market fund, or what?

****

DARIA: I'm going to put some in a growth fund, and I'm investigating computerized trading systems. I really don't have enough yet to do much. Some of the best funds have five or ten thousand dollar minimums to open. I'll be in a better position when I get the rest of it back from Mom.

****

JANE: Get it back from... you mean, get her to take it out of your college fund account and give it back to you? Do you really think you can?

****

DARIA: I've been robbed. The fact that Mom is the robber is no reason for me to tolerate it. Neither is her assertion that I'll get it back some day for college. I _will_ get it back, and it _will _be soon, and there'll be no strings.

****

JANE: Uh, not that I'm doubting you, but it looks as if your mom holds all the cards here.

****

DARIA: Well, she doesn't. I have right on my side. I also have brains, cunning, and the element of surprise on my side. 

****

JANE: Guerilla warfare?

****

DARIA: Something like that. Or terrorism.

****

JANE: (raises eyebrow) Terrorism?

****

DARIA: Well, the way I do it, it's more like aggravationism. 


	2. Scenes 6 and 7

****

Scene 6 Morgendorffer kitchen, Thursday evening.The Morgendorffers are seated at the table, opening white styrofoam compartmented takeout trays.

****

Jake: Hey, barbecue!

****

QUINN: Ewww! It's greasy! And look at all the fat!

****

DARIA: Tasty, though. This coleslaw is pretty good. Not drowned in dressing.

****

Helen: Marianne's church was doing these for a fundraiser today. I think she signed up half the firm for them. I couldn't very well say no.

****

DARIA: I like it. Potato salad needs more pickle. It's a nice change from lasagna.

****

QUINN: You'll be sorry someday. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. The way you eat, I'm amazed you aren't obese already.

****

DARIA: I know the world's easiest way to burn fat. For me, anyway. (Quinn and Helen look at Daria with interest. Daria takes a bite of potato salad.) 

****

QUINN: (gets tired of waiting) How?

****

DARIA: dee doo.

****

QUINN: Daria! How do you burn fat?

DARIA: Oh. Well, the brain burns fat more readily than muscle tissue, so I just use my brain till I run low on fat. I write stories, or plot world domination, or work on my hydrogen fusion rocket motor plans.

****

JAKE: A fusion rocket motor! Really?

****

DARIA: Sure. All those other physicists are going at it the hard way, trying to build a fusion reactor power plant first. That's stupid, because it requires complete containment of a thermonuclear explosion, hundreds of times a second, for years. They've been working on it for thirty years, and it'll be another thirty before they get a practical working power generator. A rocket motor only requires partial containment, so it'll be orders of magnitude easier. It's the obvious intermediate step. I could probably get it to produce all the power it needs to generate its own containment fields, and still have it ready to go fifteen years ahead of the Tokamak boys. 

****

QUINN: All those other physicists? Last time I checked, you were a sophomore in high school.

****

DARIA: I don't have a degree, but I can read and I can think.

****

HELEN: Daria, are you pulling our legs here?

****

DARIA: Not at all. The motor's reaction chamber will be made up mostly of electromagnetic coils, to generate the magnetic fields for the partial containment of the plasma. That's a given. The hydrogen fusion reaction generates a powerful electromagnetic pulse, which will induce electrical current in the coils, which will produce more magnetic fields. The problem is to configure the coils so that the pulse from one fusion explosion will create, or contribute to, the correct configuration of magnetic fields to contain the next explosion. It breaks down into two components, one of which would require a lot of time on a serious supercomputer, and the other, the visualization component, which I'd have to do mostly in my head.

****

HELEN: (thought v.o.) Note to self- phone Rita before you forget all of this, and brag her into the ground.

****

QUINN: Mo-OOOMM! Daria's giving me a headache!

****

HELEN: Eat your fat, Quinn dear, and get your brain in gear.

****

Scene 7 Int. Daria's room, later Thursday night. Daria is working at her computer. Quinn comes to the door.

****

QUINN: Oooohhh! I hate you! You made Mom make me eat fat!

****

DARIA: I didn't make anyone do anything. And fat is an essential nutrient, necessary for proper brain function and neural health.

****

QUINN: My brain functions just fine, thank you. 

****

DARIA: Oh? So how are the plans for the faster-than-light drive coming along? You know, fat is also necessary for proper breast development. (Quinn looks down) Made ya look.

****

QUINN: Oooh! Well, brain, how's your story coming along? Finished yet?

****

DARIA: I'd been planning to read it Monday, but the more I write, the farther away the end gets.

****

QUINN: Well, pick a stopping place, and read that much Monday, and the rest later.

****

DARIA: I was thinking right after Harmony recovers Melody's pistol would be a good place to break, but that's still a big chunk. I don't think my voice would hold out that long. Would you like to read part of it?

****

QUINN: You mean, at the coffeehouse? In front of an audience?

****

DARIA: Yeah. It'll be good practice for those supermodel awards ceremonies they'll probably want you to emcee. We can divide it up so I read the part about Harmony being the most gorgeous girl etcetera, and how she oozes innocent sexuality, so you can be at the table with the FC to feed on their envy.

****

QUINN: (stares off into space for a moment) Let me get back to you on that. (exits)

Daria smirks and returns to her computer. Pan/zoom to CU of monitor screen.

The security guard in the outer station was beaming as Melody and Harmony approached. "Melody! Do these old eyes deceive me?"

Melody smiled as she and Harmony slipped their ID cards into the stainless steel trough under the two-inch-thick sheet of lexan. "They sure do, George. Melody died at the stadium."

George's grin acquired a puzzled tinge as he pondered Melody's reply, then dropped away entirely as he read the info from her card. It looked like (and was) an ordinary gold MasterCard, but it was more. It held considerable information about Melody (or Donna Pettibone, her current identity) and several authentication codes. It could even be used to send and receive short messages through the worldwide data network that handled credit card transactions. George punched a few keys, requesting verification from HQ's central computer. Fred, at the next security checkpoint, having noticed George's expression, was watching with alert interest.

"It looks like you guys have been taking it easy lately. Very few cars." Melody observed as she rose from the wheelchair and parked it inside a rectangle painted on the floor off to the right of the checkpoint.

Some of George's cheerful look returned as he saw Melody walking normally. "Yeah, there are so few to teach the newbies how to get down here. Maybe you can help with that, Donna."

"Maybe a little. I'm showing Harmony here- she's Melody's sister, by the way-" She winked at George, who winked back. "And maybe I can take a few more if I check out an Agency sedan, but I'm not a hundred percent yet." 

"Well, you're looking great, Donna. Nice to meet you, Harmony. Go on through."

Melody and Harmony retrieved their MasterCards and stepped to the door beside George's checkpoint. It was mostly a large Lexan window from a height of thirty-two inches up, matching George's and Fred's cubicles, and all the wall segments between them, so that they could watch out for, and watch, each other. Melody put her right hand into the open-topped stainless steel box mounted on the door where a doorknob would usually be, and punched in the five-digit combination she'd memorized a few days ago. This combination was changed every two weeks, while the next one was only changed once a month. At the buzz, Melody pushed open the door and entered the short section of corridor leading to the second security checkpoint. Behind her, Harmony took her turn at the combination box, watched by George and Fred.

Melody slid an American Express card under the lexan pane to Fred, who scanned it and returned it, along with a clip-on badge from a big rack behind him, and then did the same for Harmony. "Fred, this is Harmony. I'll need a wheelchair."

As Melody punched in the combination for the next door, Fred went into the room next door to his checkpoint. A few seconds later, he pushed a wheelchair into a small airlock-like room with lexan doors at either end. Melody waited till he closed the inner door before opening the outer door and removing the wheelchair. She waved at him, and he smiled and waved back.

Harmony was through the second door now, and she steadied the wheelchair as Melody sat in it. As they started forward, Melody said "Watch your badge here. Don't let your hair or clothing cover it, and don't let it flip over. This next fifty feet is Splatter Alley. If the red lights and buzzer come on, stop where you are and get your badge right. You'll have four seconds."

Harmony eyed the sensors and little hatches in the walls and ceiling uneasily. "Northwest HQ doesn't have this particular feature. They have the sensors and the hidden robot guns in the corridors, but as long as you don't move, you're safe, and someone will come get you." 

"That's how it is here, after you get beyond that next door, but I guess you know that, right?"

"No, actually, I've only seen the office area, the gym and the break room so far."

"Those are on the upper level. We're on level two now."

They stopped at the door and Melody punched in the combination. "From here on, it's not necessary for everyone to punch in every combination." Passing through the door, they were in another stretch of hallway, but with doors on both sides. "Left, custodial. Right, mens' room." Twenty feet ahead, not exactly across from each other, were two more doors. "Left, comm center and crypto, right, computer rooms. Two mainframes, two supercomputers, lots of smaller stuff, plus a computer lab/workshop." Melody stood up and keyed in the combination for the comm center door. Pushing it open, she walked in.

"Push the wheelchair in- can't leave it unattended in the hall." Melody held the door open for Harmony and the chair, then let it close. There was a four-position console just to the right of the door, situated so that those seated at the console faced the door and the walkway past them to the rest of the area. "This is where you'll sit when you have comm center duty. There'll be three Agents per shift on days, two on swings and mids, unless conditions require more. The patch panels, testing and monitoring gear just beyond is telecomm control, the communications and data nerve center of HQ. The telecomm techs are controllers, operators, troubleshooters and repairmen. They can do your job at the console, although they lack your Agent's knowledge, and you'll be expected to learn to do certain parts of theirs. And on swing and mid shifts, the four of you mostly play hearts or pinochle."

Melody waved at the area behind the twin facing rows of patch panels and racks of test equipment, at an area partially filled with equipment cabinets. "Back there are switchers, servers, nodes, uplinks, muxes, and a lot of such stuff that mostly doesn't bother anyone. And that door in the back wall goes to the crypto room. Those guys mostly keep to themselves, but every once in a while one of them will pop out and ask you to pass a reset message to someone. If you go in there, they'll shoot you, then chop you up with fire axes, then incinerate what's left of you with thermite charges."

Harmony smiled wryly. Melody was joking, but not much. The crypto guys would only shoot her. The fire axes and thermite charges were to destroy the crypto gear in the event of an enemy overrunning HQ. The guns were to keep the enemy out until it was done. Then either the guns or the cyanide capsules would take care of the crypto guys. At a signal from Melody they spoke briefly to the Agents on duty and slipped back out into the hall.

"What are all those handle things with two suction cups that are hanging on the walls in there?" Harmony asked Melody.

"Just what they look like. Did you notice that these floor tiles are unusually large?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think anything about it." Each tile was about two feet square.

"There's a four foot high crawlspace underneath the floor that all the wires and cables and waveguides are run in. You can access it by lifting any of these floor panels that something isn't sitting on with one of those suction handles." They were coming to the next doors. Melody pointed to the one on her right. "That's the situation room. It's used when a lot of people are working one or two major situations. Some people go in there just to use a workstation in peace, but you have to be prepared to clear out quickly if something comes up." Melody pointed to the door on the left about fifteen feet farther on. "This is Ops, where we monitor and sometimes work the small and medium sized everyday situations. There are always Agents in here."

She pointed farther down the hall. "We won't be going any farther today. On the left side, there are the ladies' room, a couple of conference rooms and the library. On the right side is a break room, two elevators and a stairwell. You don't yet have clearance for what's beyond that." They were now at the door to Ops, and Melody motioned to Harmony to operate the pushbutton combination lock.

Harmony thought for a second and then put her hand into the box and pushed the unseen buttons. A click and buzz sounded and she pushed the door open. Ops looked like a combination of NASA Mission Control in Houston and the War Room at Cheyenne Mountain, with overtones of the CNN Newsroom and the trading floor at the NYSE. Its dimensions were about sixty by forty feet, with a three-tiered pit taking up most of the floor space. Set in the walls at waist height were forty-two inch monitor screens, all around the room. Above them was a row of seven by ten foot screens, except in the center of each long wall, where a single fourteen by twenty foot screen stretched from floor to ceiling. A narrow walkway ran along the walls with steps descending to the next level at several points.

The next level was four feet lower. Work stations and consoles ringed it, facing outward, the tops of the equipment just below the level of the walkway above, and inset beneath it. A walkway ran behind the consoles, then the next lower level, then the lowest, floor level. Most of the work stations were similar, with a nineteen or twenty-one inch monitor screen flanked on the right by two fourteen inch screens, one above the other, the bottom one being monochrome in most cases. Some stations had a single large screen without the small ones, some had two large screens. There were various types of consoles interspersed with the work stations, their purposes not always apparent. About two-thirds of the work stations were dark, as well as more than three-quarters of the big screens on the walls.

Melody looked around. There were twelve Agents in the room, and they all seemed occupied at the moment. She descended the steps to the next level and sat at the first work station, which was active but not in use. Harmony parked the wheelchair to the left of the door and came to stand behind her. Melody moused around a bit, then typed in a query. She turned to her right and pointed down and behind her. "Station forty-seven down there is where they're tracking Loong Wang. Since there's no one there at the moment, I'll just call his information up here." Her fingers began to dance across the keyboard, interspersed with use of the mouse. A medium resolution picture appeared on the small color monitor. It was a shot of a cheap-looking hotel room, dimly lit. Loong Wang, in slacks and undershirt, barefoot, sat in an armchair watching TV. Takeout Chinese food and a bottle of Tsing Tao beer were on a coffee table in front of him. The camera angle did not show the TV screen, but Loong Wang did not seem to be enjoying the program, or his life, at the moment.

Melody had several documents open on the large monitor, and was reading from a summary. "Seldom leaves the hotel, or even his room, no visitors except delivery boys, seldom calls out, no incoming calls at all, no internet use. He's still waiting to be contacted."

"That's a long time, isn't it? Wouldn't they have contacted him by now if they were going to?"

"Not unless he had info or something else they needed quickly, or they were pretty sure he got clean away without being tagged. Whoever he's waiting for either know or assume we're watching him. The longer they wait, the more likely we are to find better uses for our surveillance team. They probably have no one at all watching him now, but sooner or later they'll send in a team and have him do something calculated to expose our watchers to their watchers. And the smaller and/or less sophisticated their organization is, the more likely they are to compensate by waiting longer. Time is on their side in this phase of the game."

"And the home court advantage is on our side?"

"That and sophistication, particularly technological. No one's seen our latest generation of bugs and tracers yet. The smallest look like lint and crud that you'd ordinarily pick up during a day's activity, and our guys don't have to get close to him to deploy them. Their guys won't know what to watch for, or how far away."

"So, how much longer would you guess?"

"A lot depends on how devious the opposition thinks they are, but Loong's most serious injury from the stadium is that bullet wound in his left shoulder. Assuming he heals at the same rate I do, he'll be ready for action in another two or three weeks. He can travel now, but I consider that a window of higher probability. In fact, I should note that in his files. Why don't you get on the next work station and log in as on a familiarization visit with me, then check your in box and stuff? I'll be about ten minutes here."

for the next few minutes, the two Agents worked quietly at their adjacent work stations, then Harmony stood up. "I'm going to familiarize myself with the ladies' room."

"Keep your badge clear." Replied Melody. "and remember, anything you write on the wall goes in your psych profile."

"Awww. I was gonna put 'Want to get real kinky? Call Sunspider." She traded smirks with Melody and exited. A few minutes later she emerged from the Ladies'room to find Melody struggling to get the wheelchair out the Ops door. Harmony pulled the chair out as Melody held the door, and they left HQ.

Pan/zoom out from monitor screen to MS of Daria saving her work, shutting down her computer, stretching.


	3. I Hold Your Hand in Mine

Author's note 4/21/04: I am making another run at finishing this fic. Beginning today, I will be posting more complete versions of most of the chapters, starting with this one. …LS

BLOOD OATH OF PATRIOTS  
Volume III  
THE CITADEL OF LOU MANCHU  
_by_ GALEN HARDESTY  
Chapter Three  
I HOLD YOUR HAND IN MINE

(Revised and expanded 20 April 2004)

****

Scene 8 Ext. Lawndale High, Friday morning. Cut to: Int. Ms. DeFoe's art class. The students are working on stick sculptures, using thin round sticks, flat coffee stirrer sticks, white thread, and white glue. Jane's sculpture, quite abstract, evokes a fleeing, tormented figure looking over its shoulder. Daria, to Jane's left, is working on what appears to be a skeletal puppy with sad eyesockets. Upchuck, to Jane's right, is working on a standing female figure, left hand on hip, right hand raised to head height, holding what might be a pistol. Daria occasionally looks askance at this figure. Jane occasionally looks askance at Daria.

****

DARIA: Yuck! (She rubs her fingers together. We see that a fair amount of glue has built up on them. Daria rises, walks over to a paper towel dispenser by the sink, cranks out some brown paper towel, and wipes most of the glue off her fingers. She then dispenses some more paper towel and takes it back with her. She pauses behind Jane's right shoulder and watches for a few moments.)

****

JANE: (squeezes too much glue on a joint and on the fingers holding it together) Glaah! (Daria surreptitiously kicks the leg of Upchuck's stool. Upchuck squirts some superglue onto the palm of his right hand.) 

****

DARIA: Paper towel? (Jane, her attention on the glue joint and mess in her left hand, extends her right hand toward the towels seen out of the corner of her eye. Daria pulls the paper towels back momentarily, and Upchuck seizes Jane's right hand in his, giving it a brief firm squeeze.)

****

UPCHUCK: Oh, beg pardon, fair lady! I thought the lovely Daria was addressing me. You see, I clumsily dripped some... oops... (He appears to notice for the first time that their hands are stuck together, as indeed they are.)

****

JANE: (noticing the same thing) Upchuck! What the hell have you done? (She tries unsuccessfully to pull away, becomes more alarmed, suddenly looks at Daria.)

****

DARIA: (holds the paper towels out toward Jane with a wide-eyed, too-innocent smile) Paper towel?

****

UPCHUCK: A thousand pardons, Lady Jane! But fear not! I happen to know that Deuce Hardware purveys the potion required to set you free! So if you'll just follow me to the Love Machine, we shall away...

****

JANE: (dawning look of horror) Oh, no. Oh, G... (remembers the bottle of superglue releaser she decided to carry at all times, pats her pockets desperately with her left hand, discovers a small lump in her left pants pocket) (sotto voce) thankyouthankyou... (aloud) That's all right, Upchuck. By the strangest coincidence (smirks at Daria) I happen to have some... (pulls a small bottle out of her pocket, looks at it) ...eyewash?!

****

DARIA: (whisper) Gotchaa! (She whips out a small camera and snaps a picture of Jane's face just as it registers her realization of how "got" she truly is.) Say "Yenta!" (She steps back and snaps a shot of the "happy couple".)

****

MS. DEFOE: (enters shot from left) Is there a problem here?

****

UPCHUCK: A slight gluing mishap, Ms. DeFoe.

****

JANE: (sullen) Yeah, mishap.

****

MS. DEFOE: Please tell me that's not superglue.

****

UPCHUCK: I regret that it is. Its quick-setting quality really speeds up the work.

****

MS. DEFOE: Hmmm. So how did you manage to glue yourself to Miss Lane here instead of to your project or yourself?

****

DARIA: That's kind of my fault. They were both reaching for this paper towel, and I didn't hold it still. I'm sorry.

****

MS. DEFOE: (surprised and suspicious, to Jane) Is that right?

****

JANE: (grudgingly) Yeah, that's right. (thought VO) All but the part about Daria being sorry.

****

MS. DEFOE: Well, the school doesn't have anything that will dissolve that stuff, and you can't spend the rest of the day glued together.

****

UPCHUCK: I had just offered to take Miss Lane to the hardware store and purchase the needed item. We can be back within the half-hour.

****

MS. DEFOE: (filling out hall pass) Very well. I guess that's the best thing to do.

****

DARIA: I should go with them, to help with doors and whatever.

****

MS. DEFOE: (adds Daria's name to hall pass) All right. I'll have someone put your pieces away. (Daria grabs her backpack and opens the classroom door. The three exit. Jane gives Daria a look that could kill crabgrass. Daria smiles sweetly in return.)

****

Scene 9 Int. Lawndale High, hallway. Jane and Upchuck walk, right hand in right hand, Jane on the left. If gravity were allowed to take its course, their clasped hands would hang in the vicinity of Upchuck's crotch. Jane has realized this, and is awkwardly attempting to keep her hand and arm away from Upchuck, while keeping Upchuck's hand away from her person at the same time. Upchuck is vaguely cooperative, but grinning. Daria walks in front of the two, occasionally turning around to snap a picture or admire her handiwork. The bell rings, and students pour out of the classrooms into the hallway. Jane looks mortified. Daria spots Jodie emerging from a classroom, and speeds up to speak to her. 

DARIA: (handing Jodie a paper bag) Hand these out and join the procession. (She points to Jane and Upchuck and winks in response to Jodie's puzzled look, reaches into her backpack, and returns to walking in front of Jane and Upchuck. The opening strains of the Wedding March emerge, slightly muffled, from the backpack as they approach the doors opening onto the student parking lot. Daria holds the door open for Jane and Upchuck, Jodie passes out little bags of birdseed from the paper bag, and a crowd begins to form behind them. Spotting Quinn looking in her direction, Daria smirks and motions her to come along.)

****

Scene 10 Ext. Lawndale High, heading for student parking lot. Daria leads the way toward the Love Machine. Several students, including Quinn and Stacy, are throwing birdseed at them in lieu of rice. At least fifty more students follow. Jane tries to grab at Daria a couple of times, but is restrained by her attachment to Upchuck.Daria throws a handful of confetti into the air, then takes a photo as it falls on Jane and Upchuck. Jane scowls. Upchuck grins. The Wedding March continues to play.

JANE: I'll get you for this, Morgendorffer, if it's the last thing I ever do!

****

DARIA: Hey, I'm ready to go another round if you are. It's your move. Oh, say, I haven't shopped for your wedding gift yet. Where are you registered? 

****

JANE: (through clenched teeth) All the gun shops. (They reach Chuck's car.)

**UPCHUCK:** (fumbles at his right front pants pocket with his left hand) Uh, Jane dear, could you possibly reach into this pocket and get my car keys for me? (Daria stands by ready to capture the moment on film.) I really can't reach them with my left hand. (Jane, scowling ferociously, retrieves the keys. Upchuck's grin gets slightly bigger.) Hold on to them. You'll have to turn me on, err, I mean work the ignition. Jane awkwardly gets into the car, followed by Upchuck.

****

DARIA: (strips away a large piece of white polyethylene taped to the trunk lid of the Love Machine to reveal a sign, also taped to the trunk lid, reading [**JUST MARRIED!**] and snaps a few more shots as the happy couple pulls away.) HAPPY HONEYMOON! BE FRUITFUL AND MULTIPLY! (three tin cans, tied to the bumper and formerly concealed beneath the car, clatter merrily as they exit the parking lot and recede down the street toward Deuce Hardware. With her left hand, Jane pulls her outer shirt over her head.


	4. A Killing at Homecoming

Author's note 4/21/04: I am making another run at finishing this fic. Beginning today, I will be posting essentially complete versions of most of the chapters, starting with chapter 3. …LS

BLOOD OATH OF PATRIOTS  
Volume III  
THE CITADEL OF LOU MANCHU  
_by_ GALEN HARDESTY  
Chapter Four  
A KILLING AT HOMECOMING

(Revised and expanded 20 April 2004)

****

Scene 11: Lawndale High bleachers, announcer's booth. Upchuck is calling the Lions homecoming game.

****

UPCHUCK: Stagg back to pass... throws to Armitage... Intercepted! Mighty Mack has it! He's on the thirty-five, the thirty... breaks a tackle.. slips past Blake... the twenty, he's going all the way! He scores!!

****

Scene 12: Medium long shot of playing field from POV of bleachers. The ball is snapped, Lawndale kicks the extra point.

****

UPCHUCK: The extra point is up… it's good! It's now 33-28, Lions trailing by five.

Cut to: same scene, six minutes later.

****

UPCHUCK: (vo): So the Taproots must kick off from their thirty-seven, and the Lions have time for one more series of plays. Here's the snap... the kick is up... Morton takes it on the thirteen..he's to the twenty... the twenty-five... he breaks a tackle... spins out of another... to the thirty-five... will he... no! He's down at the forty-one! Big kickoff return for Morton! And there goes the two minute warning!

Cut to...

****

Scene 13: Medium shot of bleachers showing the Morgendorffers standing and cheering, except Daria, who remains seated. She and Quinn both look noticeably anxious. Cut back to... 

****

Scene 11 Int. Announcer's booth, one and a half minutes later.

****

UPCHUCK: Twenty-seven seconds left to play, and it's second and ten for the Lions on the seventeen yard line. Thompson takes the snap... he's looking... he's gonna run it... and he's hit on the twenty for a three yard loss on the play! Ooh, bad break, Kevin! 

Cut back to...

****

Scene 13: MS of bleachers showing Morgendorffers standing, with disappointed looks on their faces, and Daria seated, looking disgusted. Cut back to...

****

Scene 12: Medium long shot of playing field from POV of bleachers. The teams, looking tired and dirty, line up.

****

UPCHUCK: ( vo) And it's third down and thirteen from the twenty for Lawndale. Only time for one or two more plays. It's all on the line now. There's the snap and it's a running play straight up the middle. He's to the fifteen, he's still on his feet, to the twelve, OHHH! He's down on the eleven yard line! Coach Gibson uses Lawndale's last time out!

****

UPCHUCK: Now they're lined up, the clock starts, the ball is snapped. Thompson fades back, he's looking... he laterals to White! White to the ten, to the five, he slips a tackle, gets a block, HE SCORES! LIONS LEAD BY ONE! Five seconds remain! FOUR!... THREE!... TWO!... ONE!!! LIONS WIN!! LIONS WIN!!!

Cut back to…

****

Scene 13: Lawndale High Bleachers, MS showing the Morgendorffers among other fans, on their feet, waving their arms and cheering. Daria jumps up and down two or three times, Quinn continues to do so. After fifteen seconds or so, Daria steps back to the next row and makes her way behind her parents' backs to the aisle, and then down off the bleachers. After working her way through the worst of the crowd, which is pressing toward the exits leading to the parking lots, she sets a course toward the motor pool exit, where the buses are parked. Blending in with the Taproots marching band and some disconsolate Oakwood fans, she passes through the gate, then angles toward the back side of the garage building. Cut to…

****

Scene 14: Lawndale High garage, Southeast corner. At the edge of a pool of light cast by a pole lamp, Ms. Li is counting small bundles received from a well-dressed man in a spiffy hat. They speak briefly, then separate. Placing her bundles in a large purse, Ms. Li heads back toward the gate to the football field. Upchuck steps into the light and approaches the well-dressed man.

****

DARIA: Congratulations.

****

MS. LI: (starts, looks around, focuses on a deep shadow at the back end of a school bus) Who's there?

****

DARIA: Melody Powers. (Steps out of the shadow.) 

****

MS. LI: (smiles) And to you. (reaches in purse) This would be more convenient and discreet in my office Monday afternoon.

****

DARIA: I agree, but I'm afraid Quinn will get antsy waiting and let something slip before then. Mom's very good at picking up on that sort of thing, and all this lovely money would become involuntary contributions to our college funds, which I won't need because of scholarships, and which Quinn won't need because of her mysterious and untimely death.

****

MS. LI: Hmhm, well, we wouldn't want that. (She has been counting out money, and hands some to Daria, who counts it quickly.) Don't blow it all on loose women.

****

DARIA: (smirks) Okay. My share's going into my new bank account tomorrow morning. The one my parents don't know about. (She gets down on her left knee and hides more than half of the bills in her right sock.)

****

MS. LI: Having the bank statements sent to a friend's house?

****

DARIA: (hiding more bills in her left sock) Yes. But thanks for mentioning it.

****

MS. LI: De nada. See you Monday. (She walks off. Daria puts the rest of the money in two of her jacket pockets, looks around, and heads for the gate to the football field, after Ms. Li.)


	5. Root of All Evil

Author's note 4/21/04: I am making another run at finishing this fic. Beginning today, I will be posting essentially complete versions of most of the chapters, starting with chapter 3. …LS

BLOOD OATH OF PATRIOTS  
Volume III  
THE CITADEL OF LOU MANCHU  
_by_ GALEN HARDESTY  
Chapter Five  
ROOT OF ALL EVIL

(Revised and expanded 21 April 2004)

****

Scene 15: Ext. Morgendorffer house,Saturday morning. Two squirrels play tag around the trunk of the big tree to the right of the driveway. Cut to: Int. Morgendorffer house, upstairs hallway. Daria emerges from her room, dressed, and goes to Quinn's bedroom door. She listens a second, then knocks.

DARIA: Quinn? Can I come in? (At a muffled word from within, she opens the door and enters)

****

Scene 16: Int. Quinn's room. Quinn is dressed in her usual boots and jeans and a sky-blue bra. She's holding a pink baby tee with silkscreened smiley face in front of her as she looks in the mirror and talks on the phone. Two pink pullover shirts with three-quarter length sleeves are laid out on her bed, nearly vanishing against the pink bedspread. Daria closes the door and steps toward her.

****

DARIA: (motions to Quinn to cover phone mouthpiece; Quinn does so.) Quinn, after breakfast I'm going to put most of my winnings in the bank. You probably don't have a secret account yet, so do you want to put some of your money in my account till you get yours set up?

****

QUINN: Sandi, I'll have to call you back. Mom's yelling, and she sounds mad about something. Well, I won't know until I go down there and find out, will I? Gottagobye. (hangs up, looks over at Daria.) Oh, Daria, Daria, that's so sad. You're wallowing in dough, and all you can think of to do with it is put it in the bank. I could help you if you'd let me.

****

DARIA: (smirks a little, steps back and peeks out the door into the hallway, closes it carefully, turns back to Quinn. Quinn holds up the baby tee and one of the pullover shirts and raises her eyebrows questioniongly at Daria.) Go with the butterfly. It speaks to me of flowers that will bloom again in Spring. 

****

QUINN: (slightly awed smile) That's... beautiful. Daria! I knew you had a fashion sense down in there somewhere! (She pulls on the longer-sleeved shirt with the embroidered butterfly.) So come go shopping with me! Shake off those dowdy feathers and fly a lttle bit!

****

DARIA: Actually, it was foreshadowing, not fashion. A literary device. Hey! Did you just match me old-song-quote for old-song-quote? Way to go, Quinn! I knew you had a wit down in there somewhere!

****

QUINN: (flattered) Oh, well, I get one off every so often. (thought v.o.) Recall previous conversation for later playback and analysis- what did I say that Daria thought was witty?

****

DARIA: (heads to far side of Quinn's bed, motions her to follow) Look, the main danger to both our young fortunes is Mom. She has very good money radar. If, for instance, you suddenly have a bunch of new clothes that she didn't pay for and you shouldn't have been able to pay for, she'll be all over you like a chicken on a junebug, as they say in Highland, and she won't let up until you've told her everything. Which means you'll rat me out, which means I'll kill you.

****

QUINN: Daria, there's no call to get ugly here! I haven't done anything to you! In fact, I helped you win all that money you're scrooging!

****

DARIA: No, you haven't, and yes, you did. I'm just reminding you that your resistance to Mom's interrogation is practically zero. Your only chance to hang onto your money is to not let her suspect that you have it. Now I know you're just itching to hit the mall, but you'll be able to buy pretty much everything you want using your regular money sources, without having to spend your own. You always have, right? You bet a hundred. Keep a hundred fifty or two hundred, and let me put the rest in my account till I can help you open one of your own. Later, I'll even invest some of it, if you like. I'm going to invest some of mine, after I do some research.

****

QUINN: (looks Daria in the eye) You'll give it back to me when I ask for it?

****

DARIA: Yes.

****

QUINN: (hesitates) Well... all right. I don't like it, but something tells me to go along with you on this. Now go stand over there by the door and cover your eyes while I get it.

****

DARIA: (when Quinn finally hands her the money) Maybe you should avoid Mom as much as possible for a couple of days, until you can stand her looking at you without spilling your guts.

****

QUINN: Daria!

****

DARIA: Not an insult, just advice. Remember, If you ever want me to cut you in on any other profit opportunities, you must prove yourself worthy this time. (exits)

****

Scene 17: Ext. Lane house. Daria stands at the front door and knocks. The door opens. Jane sees Daria, opens the door wider. Daria enters and the door closes. Cut to:

Scene 18: Int. Lane house. Daria and Jane regard each other awkwardly for a moment. Then Daria pulls several Federal Reserve notes from a pocket and hands them to Jane. This elevates Jane's mood considerably. 

****

JANE: Hey, thanks, Daria. You didn't have to make a special trip, but I'm glad you did. Trent and I were just scrounging for money. He needs a new guitar string and I need a tube of Alizarin Crimson. (rustling sounds are heard from upstairs) He's looking underneath all the junk in his floor for forgotten piles of pocket change.

****

DARIA: (quizzical expression) I see. I was going to deposit my winnings in the bank. Want to come along? We can loaf around downtown awhile, and I'll spring for lunch at Roly Poly Oley's.

****

TRENT: (from top of stairs) I found about five bucks' worth. That's about all I'm gonna find without actually cleaning my room. Oh, hi, Daria.

****

JANE: That's okay, Trent. I found some. (fans out the bills Daria gave her, holds them up) I can lend you enough for a string, and a couple of picks, too.

****

TRENT: Whoa. Good looking there, Janey. You guys want a ride downtown?

****

TRENT: Sounds good to me. What about you, Daria?

****

DARIA: (blushing slightly) Uhh, sure. You, uh, want to join us for lunch at Oley's? Drivers eat free.

****

TRENT: (smiling) Sure, Daria, I'd like that. I think the 'drivers eat free' thing is just for tour bus drivers, though.

****

DARIA: (blushing harder) I know. I, uh, meant that lunch is on me. You know, since I, uh, won that money on the game. Oh, here's what you won. (She reaches in another pocket and brings out more bills.)

****

TRENT: (takes money) Cool. Thanks, Daria. Shall we go? (he starts toward the door, reaches in his pocket, stops, thinks for a minute, then heads for the stairs.) Gotta get my keys. Hope I didn't bury 'em too deep while I was looking for change.

****

DARIA: (looking up the stairs after him) Does he ever clean that room? I mean, except when he's been looking for his car keys for several days?

****

JANE: (smirking) Not to my knowledge. But I'm sure you could change him, Daria. The love of a good woman is…

****

DARIA: (scowling) I'm sure I could superglue your sphincter shut, Jane. One quick swipe in the locker room and you're closed for renovations.

****

JANE: Eep!

(Trent's laugh/cough is heard from upstairs. Daria blushes even harder.)

****

SCENE 19: Ext. Roly Poly Oley's Smorgasbord Restaurant. Cut to: Int. Roly Poly Oley's. Daria, Jane, and Trent are seated at a table eating. Several extra plates and salad bowls clutter the table.

****

TRENT: (drops chicken bone onto plate) Thanks for lunch, Daria. I really like eating here. And I'm glad that you and Janey are friends again.

****

JANE: Not so fast. I haven't decided whether to seek revenge for Daria's revenge or not. I mean, she glued me to Upchuck! In public!

****

DARIA: (evil smirk) Any time you feel lucky, sucker.

****

TRENT: (frowns) Hand to hand, right? Janey, considering where you glued my finger, you should be grateful that Daria let you off as lightly as she did.

****

DARIA: (says nothing, but nods very slightly, regarding Jane from beneath a cocked eyebrow.)

****

JANE: (sighs) Oh, all right. I hate to admit it, but I know when I'm outgunned. (offers Daria her hand) Peace?

****

DARIA: (smiles, shakes Jane's hand) Peace. (groans) Ooog! Well, we've done the banking, and we've definitely had lunch. I'd like to hit the Read House preloved book store. How about you?

****

JANE: Sounds good, if we can stop off at Crazy Vincent's Cut-Rate Art Supplies on the way. Coming, Trent?

****

TRENT: You girls go ahead, Janey. I'm, uh, not quite finished. I'll pick you up at the bookstore.

****

JANE: (gets up) Okay, Trent. Don't give yourself a tummy ache. (She and Daria head for the exit.)

****

DARIA: (smiles) That boy sure can eat. I think Oley's going to take a loss on him.

****

JANE: (smirks) I know he will. But Trent really likes his nap after a big meal. Don't be surprised if we find him asleep in the parking lot.


	6. The Lawnmower Men

Melody approached her house with habitual caution, or in this case, instructed Harmony to do so. Today it paid off. Two scruffy looking men were just sidling up to the front yard. Melody had Harmony park in front of the second to last house in the block before hers and reached for the small binoculars she kept in the glove box.

The tall thin one was caucasian, the shorter, stockier one Latino-ish. They were headed in the general direction of the door, but both seemed interested in the shrubbery. Melody handed the binocs to Harmony and pulled a small fifteen-power telescope from the glove box. Higher magnification showed the tall man as having eastern european features. The other one made Melody think South American, but she couldn't be sure. They had rung the bell and were standing there swiveling their necks a lot while they waited, as if scanning the neighborhood for possible threats. They also glanced more often than seemed warranted at an old van parked across the street.

Melody turned the telescope on the van. Lettering whose freshness contrasted oddly with the van's dull, neglected paint job read 'High Regard Lawn Caring'. After noting that the van lacked not only a trailered riding mower but even a trailer hitch, she turned her attention to the front passenger side window. Nothing was visible therein, but she caught a flicker of movement in the rearview mirror. Laying the telescope down, she said "There's a third man in the van. I bet the first two hide in the shrubbery."

"Really? You think it's an ambush? For you?"

"More likely for me than for Prairie Dog. As far as I know, she hasn't done anything to get on anyone's hit list. If one of them hides behind that tall evergreen at the near corner of my house and the other goes into the hedge between mine and the next house, it'll be a classic Albanian Troika pattern."

"Albanian Troika pattern? I don't remember learning about that."

"It was originated by Smersh in the old days. The idea is to triangulate the target so he's taking fire from three sides, while holding down the danger of the ambushers hitting each other. It maximizes the effectiveness of poorly trained personnel. Smersh stopped using it when their training improved and they went to two-man teams. I think even the Albanians have stopped using it now."

"So who would these guys be?" asked Harmony.

"The tall guy could be Albanian or Bulgarian, the other one looks Central or South American, and we can't see the third person. They don't look like heavy enough hitters to have been sent after me, unless there's a Vulcan gun mounted in the van. Maybe they really want to mow the... nope, there they go."

Just as Melody had predicted, the tall man sloped over to the hedge separating Melody's yard from the one beyond, and the other headed for the bush at the near corner of her house. Melody pulled her Agency phone and hit a speed dial number.

Melody closed her phone and looked over at Harmony. "Prairie Dog is on her way here and out of contact. Apparently she left her phone at HQ. The two closest Special Ops and a cleanup team are on their way, but Prairie Dog will arrive first, and probably be killed. So I'm going to take these guys out."

Harmony looked aghast. "But you can't! You're not ready! You're not healed!"

"I'm going to kill them, not wrestle them. I won't break a sweat. Drive me around the block and drop me off behind the corner house there, and I'll call when I'm done."

"The hell you say! We're doing this together, or I'll park two blocks back and go in alone!"

Melody glared at Harmony. Harmony glared right back. Finally Melody cracked a little smile. "Are you sure you're up for this? Killing isn't something everyone can do, not even everyone with Agency training."

"I'm sure. We have to do this to save Prairie Dog's life. These guys need killing. And you're my sister and you're injured. No way am I gonna let you try this alone." 

Aminanda Fogrolo crouched between the strange northern bush and the corner of the ridiculously large house. Only one small woman lived in this house that was big enough for the entire extended family in which he had grown to manhood, and most of their livestock. Often now he wished he hadn't left his family group and his tribe and their simple way of life in the jungle. These foolish people had way too many things, and they were forced to work like ugly women all day long to pay for their things and the huge houses needed to hold the things, leaving them very little time to enjoy the things.

When the Shining Path men had come into Aminanda's tribe's territory, they had told his people about the great quest they were on to free all the people from the Capitalist Opressors. Neither Aminanda nor his people had ever seen a Capitalist Opressor, but they sounded very bad. And they had had knives and machetes and other nice useful things, even guns, so Aminanda had gone with them for a while.

The Shining Path people had admired his jungle skills and had given him some nice things, and he had killed some capitalist opressors for them. And they had given him the other thing. Cocaine. At first it had seemed to magically enhance his skills and abilities, but now he knew that it did not. But now he needed it just to not feel bad. 

Aminanda took out the picture and looked at the woman's face. He would not mind making her his woman, but he must kill her instead. Then he would get much money, enough to go back home with many things for himself and his people, enough to make him a big man. Then he could sit in a sweat bower and drink herb water and sweat the cocaine out. Just this one small woman to kill first.

They said this woman was very dangerous, very skilled at killing. They said she had killed many more men than Aminanda, and that he must be very cautious and ever alert. Aminanda doubted. Maybe she had killed a lot of stupid unskilled Northern men, but she would have no chance against him. She would be dead before she knew he was...

Aminanda felt a small person land on his back and a small hand cover his mouth. His lightning fast reflexes... The second to last thing Aminanda felt was the very cold steel knife blade in his neck. The last thing Aminanda Fogrolo felt was very very dizzy as the blood pressure in his brain dropped suddenly to zero.

Melody jerked her hand away as soon as the man's larynx was severed and he could no longer cry out, but the blood from his carotid artery sprayed everywhere, some of it soaking the sleeve of her blouse and her lower arm. "Damn", she thought, mildly annoyed. The assassin collapsed, futilely clutching his throat. 

Melody darted around the back of her house and the back end of her neighbor's hedge. Although she knew where he was, at first she was unable to get a visual fix on the second assassin from this side. Then a branch of the hedge quivered faintly and she had him. Melody noted with amusement that a concrete goose, painted in the latest decorative art colors, was seemingly staring right at him from a few feet away. Melody smirked a bit. Okay, slight change of plans. She shifted her swiss army knife to her left hand. 

Glancing across the street, Melody could see Harmony jogging up the sidewalk, approaching the van from behind. Her long slim legs flashed, showcased by the khaki shorts that had been slacks a few minutes ago. Her firm, perky breasts bounced just a little beneath her tank top. Her strawberry blond hair, pulled back in a ponytail, swayed enticingly. Another slight rustle of the hedge was a strong indication that target number two was also watching Harmony. 

Noiseless as a cat, Melody stole up behind the eastern european, seized the concrete goose by the neck, and swung it violently into the back of his skull. He fell out the other side of the hedge and hit the driveway like a dead man.

A second later, a muffled pistol shot sounded from across the street. Harmony jogged around the front of the van, tucking something into her waistband, then across the street and up the driveway. Melody, kneeling by the eastern european man, looked up at her. "You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine." Replied Harmony. Pointing with a thumb over her shoulder, she continued, "He's dead. Very black skin, probably sub-Saharan African. I could've taken him alive."

"As it turned out. But we had no way of knowing what he had in that van, or what he was prepared to do. We had to think of our safety and the safety of the neighborhood." Melody searched her sister's eyes. "Does it bother you?"

"No! He came here to kill you! He had it coming!" Harmony looked down, her expression pensive. "Well... maybe a little."

"And it should. If it ever stops bothering you, it's time to get out."

Harmony looked at her sister anxiously. "And you?"

Melody looked at the man lying immobile on her driveway, blood seeping through his hair. "That other guy... he was barefoot. His feet looked like they'd never worn shoes. He died an awful long way from home, in a strange land."

"And this guy?"

"He's not dead." Stating that simple fact brought Melody back to the exigencies of the moment. Retrieving her keyring from Harmony, she unlocked her garage door and stepped inside. She took a roll of duct tape off a shelf and handed it to Harmony. "Tape him up. I'm going to put these clothes in cold water before the bloodstains set."

Emerging from the house a few minutes later in some old clothes she hadn't taken when she'd moved out, Melody saw that the two Special Ops had arrived. One was watching the prisoner, and the other was across the street, checking out the back of the van. She approached the nearest one, remaining inside the garage. "Hi. I'm Sunspider. Call me Donna."

"Two-stroke. Call me James." James was about six feet one with light brown hair and dark blue eyes, and looked to be short of thirty. "Good work, Donna. Harmony went to get your car. The cleanup crew will be here in a couple of minutes."

"And Prairie Dog?"

"She went back to HQ to get her phone."

Melody looked down at her feet, as did James. The prostrate assassin broke the silence with a faint groan.

Harmony pulled into the driveway and as close as she could without running over the would-be hit man. Melody said,"Well, gotta go. The less my face is seen around here, the better, especially right now. Oh, tell the cleanup guys there's a concrete goose just on the other side of this hedge with my bloody handprint around its neck."

James waved and nodded as Melody slid into the passenger seat of her black Viper and Harmony backed them out of the driveway. When they were a couple of blocks away Harmony asked, "Where to? Back to HQ?"

"No. We can email our reports in, and I'm not up for another run through the parking garage today. My knife wound is mad at me for playing with that goose."

"For what?"

"I used a concrete goose to clout that second guy. It was a little heavier than optimum for a truncheon."

"Oh, no! You didn't reinjure yourself, did you?"

"No, it's just warning twinges. I'll be fine in the morning."

After a minute, Harmony asked, "D'you think that guy has information that will lead us to Loong Wang's bosses?"

"I doubt it. Whoever tricked or otherwise persuaded the Chicoms to import those eleven nukes did not send the three stooges back there to set an Albanian Troika ambush for me."

"I was thinking about that. When Loong Wang tells them you went up against three thousand Chinese Special Forces, and lived, what kind of a hit will they put out on you?"

"I've been thinking about it too. Either some sort of massive overkill, like a truck bomb, or the best hired gun on the market, or just try to be ready for me when I come to them."

"Yikes! And you've been living like this for three years?"

"They've only taken notice of me in the last year or so, and I'm just now into the 'deadliest Special Op' category. Thinking of getting your own apartment?"

"No! Not till you throw me out, or at least till you're fully recovered. Melody, there has to be a way you can retire from being deadliest Special Op besides Hunsacker's way!"

"I think it's being discussed. Now that the last of the Old Guard have retired or gone to glory, changes like that will be easier. But they'll have to work out how to do it. With me, it might require a new name and a new face. I don't know if I'd want to do that. And I don't like the idea of running and hiding just because some bad guys don't like me."

"More like ALL the bad guys. You can't kill 'em all, Melody."

Melody's face contorted into a silent snarl. "I can make a sizeable dent!" 

"You already have, but they're breeding faster than you can shoot 'em. You want to see your grandchildren, don't you?"

"I dunno... do I have to have children first?"

They smirked in silence for a bit, then Melody half turned to Harmony and said, "You did well back there, Harmony. I'm proud of you. This will look very good in your record. And, since you've killed an enemy in the line of duty, you'll start getting special-duty pay."

Harmony glanced at her sister, then back to the road. "That first thing you said means a lot to me. And I guess you know I'm very proud of you."

After another short silence, Harmony asked, "What about Prairie Dog? How will this look in her record?"

Melody's small smile faded. "Not very good. She made a serious mistake, the kind of mistake that gets you killed. It's probably not enough to spoil her chances of making Special Op by itself, but she'll have to make up for it somehow, just to get back to square one. This assignment was a chance for her to help herself, like you did, but she hurt herself instead. She also embarrassed her angel."

"Angel?"

"Whoever stuck his neck out and said she was ready for this. Actually, in this case, it could have just been her resemblance to me, but usually you need someone above you who has some confidence in you to get the kind of assignments that give you a chance to prove yourself. Remember that."

"I guess you've got gobs of angels, if you even need any anymore."

"That's not quite as great as you make it sound. When everyone thinks you can do anything, you get assignments like "Walk into enemy headquarters alone and unarmed, and see if they try to kill you."

Harmony smirked. "Awww, they wouldn't..." then she gasped. "Omigosh, they **_did! _**The Jade Dragon!"

Melody's expression did not change, but her voice took on a grim note. "Yeah. Four damn times."


	7. Mountain Breeze

Melody entered Ops with Harmony right behind. Making her way down to station forty-seven, she looked over the Agent's shoulder until he'd finished typing in a query and could turn around and speak to them. "Where is he now?" she asked him. 

"Still at the Mountain Breeze Motel, room 109. He hasn't left his room since he checked in."

Melody frowned. "Thats..." she pointed to a note on the screen. "over seven hours now. He didn't come out for lunch?"

"No, not for anything." Said the young man.

"Alert all Agents in the area. No, scratch that. Alert all Agents west of the Rockies. He's long gone."

"I assure you, Agent Pettibone, no one has gone in or out of that door..."

A voice came from behind them. "Agent Pettibone, I'm Barker, Ops watch supervisor. What makes you think this, uhh..." he glanced at the monitor. "Loong Wang might not be in his room?"

Melody looked at Barker with some disbelief. "To start with, if he were in there, it would be almost 24 hours since he last ate. He ducked out of the hotel restaurant in Chinatown this morning when he supposedly went to breakfast. He was tailed from there to the Mountain Breeze, and he didn't stop to eat, right? So it's midafternoon and he hasn't eaten since dinner yesterday."

"Granted. What else?"

"Look at that motel. It was built as a Holiday Inn in the mid-sixties."

Barker peered at the image on the small color monitor, from a camera in the stake-out car. "Possibly. I won't dispute it. So what?"

"So what?! Doesn't anybody here have any field experience?!"

"Now, see here, Pettibone! You may not be aware of it, but we lost a lot of fine Agents not long ago, and..."

Melody glared at Barker. "I'm aware of of it. I was there."

Belatedly, Barker realized who he was talking to. "Oh. Uh, sorry, Agent Pettibone, but could you just enlighten us as to what we should know, but don't, about old former Holiday Inns?"

Melody took a deep breath, let it out. "Sorry I snapped at you, Agent Barker. Okay, sure. All the Holiday Inns built on this plan-" She pointed at the image of the motel- "two stories, back-to-back rooms, usually three buildings in a U shape around the office and pool- have a central pipe and cable chase in each building. It's a space the length and height of the building and about eighteen inches wide, although a few are narrower. All the electrical, phone, and alarm wires, TV cables, and plumbing are run in it. You can get into it from any room through a little panel under the bathroom sink, move through it freely, and come out in any other room in that building, or through a door at either end. Loong Wang almost certainly stripped and showered, moved through the cable chase to another room on the outside of the building, which we should have been watching but aren't, showered again, dressed in new clothes and probably a disguise, and left in a different car. He probably has a six hour lead on us."

Barker put a hand to his forehead, grimacing in disgust. "Well, that's my ass. Thompson, alert all Agents west of the Rockies, like she said, to be on the lookout, and send Wang's info. Maintain the surveillance until morning, when we can send in an Agent dressed as a maid, just in case he is still there, and remind them that they're probably being watched themselves. Jenkins, Taylor, see if you can give me a projection of where he might be headed from here. The rest of you, as you were, but if you have info or suggestions, I'm all ears." He went off to relay the bad news to the station chief.

Harmony turned to Melody, who had taken a nearby workstation and was calling up information. "Does this mean these guys know about our new bugs and tracers already?"

Melody paused and looked up. "Possibly. They may just be assuming their existence based on our past progress in that field, without having any hard info. We don't know yet what he did, I'm just assuming he got rid of the bugs somehow."

"Why did you assume he'd take that second shower after he got to the other room?"

"That's easy. I've been in those cable chases. They're very dusty, with random grease blobs and plumbing leaks. He'd need another shower." Melody turned back to her work station.

A line appeared on the map of California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah on Melody's screen, running northeast from San Francisco, highlighting the route of Interstate 80. She selected and assigned an icon of a Chinese-style dragon, then a yellow capital 'A'. Hitting a function key caused the dragon icon to move along the line, northeast through Sacramento to the Mountain Breeze motel outside the little town of Emigrant Gap, at the mouth of Donner Pass, with the big A hot on its tail. Melody went back to the icon file.

Harmony sat down at a vacant workstation and checked her in box, acknowledging some memos, including one announcing that she was to start receiving special duty pay. Finishing, she looked up to see Melody still busy and Barker approaching again.

Barker stopped where Jenkins and Taylor were working. "What do you have?"

Taylor replied, "He'll probably continue on to Reno and do some tail-shaking maneuvers. He won't assume that one trick shook us off completely. Second most likely is he'll double back to Sacramento and do the same thing. After his handlers think he's clean..." Taylor shrugged.

Barker scowled but nodded, acknowledging the logic, although he'd hoped for some brilliant insight. Just then one of the big seven by ten foot screens on the wall above them lit up, showing a map of California, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona. Barker looked up to see a jade green dragon icon move northeast out of San Francisco , pursued by a big yellow A. As the dragon approached Sacramento, a bronze colored stylized rat's head icon headed out of San Francisco. The dragon icon stopped at Emigrant Gap, then turned into a green question mark. The yellow A stopped there and stayed. The bronze rat's head icon paused there briefly, then continued on to Reno, and stopped there. A clock readout in the lower right corner of the display indicated the date and time corresponding to each position of the icons.

Barker looked toward Melody and saw that her large monitor had an identical display. His expression changed to something that hinted at a grateful smile, but preserved deniability. "Who's the third player?" he asked.

"Ratboy." Replied Melody.

"All right! Looks like we're back in the game! Good work, Pettibone. Thompson, Jenkins, Taylor, I need to know what room on the outside of the building he emerged into. I want to know who rented that room. I want to know what car he left in and who rented it if it was a rental. I want a line on everyone who was involved in this maneuver, and I want to know who they work for and who he works for. Stay low profile for now, but if you need to go overt for something, come see me. Pettibone, Powers, get a tagging team and go to Reno. Find Loong Wang and re-tag him." Barker turned back to stare at the big screen, deep in thought.

Melody turned to Harmony, who looked like she was about to pop. "Show me bored professionalism."

"Are you nuts?! I'm going on a field assignment with you!" Harmony bounced a little in her seat.

Melody leaned closer to her sister and said in a low voice, "One, if you go running up to Loong Wang looking like that, he'll plug you and be gone before you can say 'oops.' And two, I'm not sure Barker realizes you're not a special op yet. So if you want to go with me, look cool and professional and check some flight times. I don't think flying is going to save us much time over driving. Find out. I'll check on the tagging teams."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Melody wiggled a little in the custom Ferrigno bucket seat of her Agency-modified Viper. She was climbing through the darkness toward Donner Pass, past a series of small communities and exit villages. "So I called Mavis in planning, and she told me there was a big rivalry going between tagging teams B and D. Since team D was the one that was supposed to retag Wang when he made his move, it was tempting to give them another shot, figuring they'd be eager to redeem themselves, and they were already familiar with the target. But I figure team B will try even harder, for a chance to really rub D's noses in it."

Harmony's laughter came through the speakers. "Exactly what I'd have done. And you called me a Mata Hari. I bet you could teach me a few tricks in that area."

Harmony was having difficulty keeping her Honda in touch with Melody's Viper on the curving uphill road, even though it was an interstate. She longed anew to be a special operative, with all the attendant perks, including a fast, powerful car with all the special equipment. She wondered if she could at least wheedle a turbocharger out of somebody. Melody's taillights disappeared around the next curve just as she said, "Maybe I could, but you're too young for those."

Harmony eased her accelerator pedal down another notch. "Too young, am I? Then I must be too young to dress up like a hooker and knock on Loong Wang's door, too!"

Melody chuckled. "No, actually, you're just right. Usually it's only the young hungry ones and the old worn-out ones who work these old motels. The more affluent businessmen stay in the newer hotels and it's much harder for the hookers to get at them."

Harmony rounded the curve and caught sight of Melody's taillights again. She certainly wasn't gaining any ground on her. She mashed a little harder on the pedal. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you? What am I supposed to do if he's there and says yes?"

Melody grinned. "You watched the training films. You know what goes where. Seriously, there isn't a chance in a thousand that he's in there. You're just a plausible excuse to ring his room phone and knock on his door before the maids start to clean tomorrow morning. When he doesn't answer, the forensics team goes in, and we go get a bite to eat and press on to Reno."

"Yeah, but what if he is there? What if he invites me in and hands me the money?"

"Well... use your imagination. Go with the flow. Have some fun, pick up a little extra dough."

"MELodeee!!"

"Harmony, even if he were there, which he isn't, he would not do that, not now that he's finally been contacted. You could be a vice cop for all he knows. Or FBI. Or us. No matter how horny he might be, he's way too suspicious to accept."

"Rrrr... I guess so. So I get to dress like a cheap whore and freeze my exquisite tushie in this cold night air basically for nothing. Or for the amusement of the other Agents. Just one more crappy job for the junior Agent."

Melody smirked in the semi-darkness of the Viper's cockpit, knowing that Harmony would be enjoying her time in the spotlight, her grousing notwithstanding. "Think of it this way. A lot of Agents will be watching you for that minute or so, including some back at HQ, and probably some at World HQ. Do it right and look good doing it. One or more of those Agents might be asked to recommend you one day. Remember what I said about angels. There's the motel, ahead on the right." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right." mused Harmony. "Hey! You passed it! Where are you going?"

"I'm going on ahead to find a place to eat. I heard the Sam Shoemaker 

memorial buffet is up here someplace."

"Who was he?" 

"The first member of the Donner party to be eaten."

"Eewwww! MELodeee!"


	8. Hot Night In Reno

Harmony nibbled her California Roll and studied Loong Wang out of the corner of her eye. She was glad he hadn't been in that room at the Mountain Breeze Motel last night when she'd knocked on the door. He was a lean, hard-bitten man who looked like he hadn't a milligram of pity in him and would do anything to achieve his goal. He sat at a table in the front of the little oriental fast food shop, eating pork lo mein, drinking an Orion beer, and occasionally scanning the street through the window.

Harmony glanced out the window herself, at the corner storm drain across the street. Ratboy was there, she knew, although she couldn't' see him. They'd triangulated the position of the tracer built into the chestplate of his costume, and then guessed that the oriental fast food place across the street was the most probable place to look for Loong Wang. Harmony had been sent in here to confirm his presence, which she'd already done, and nothing else, which she thought Melody had emphasized more than necessary.

One of the taggers walked up to the bus stop outside , glanced at his watch, and began reading a newspaper. He did not set his briefcase down. One of the other two was being fitted with the close-range indoor launcher and would come in here to tag Loong Wang, if he stayed long enough. The briefcase launcher had a maximum range of thirty feet, but it made a slight noise that would be noticed in here. 

Harmony picked up the rest of the slice of California Roll and dipped it in the soy sauce/wasabi mixture. It was better than she'd expected for a prepackaged product. It must have been made fresh this morning; she was sure she could tell if it hadn't been. Oh, darn! The thing was starting to crumble! Harmony managed to get most of it into her mouth, but there was a little pile of rice grains in the sauce dish now. She couldn't pick up the individual grains with her chopsticks, and she couldn't dip another piece of roll in the sauce with them in the tiny dish. 

This was what she hated about sushi rolls- the chefs sliced them into such big pieces, and if you bit off a reasonable mouthful, the rest would probably crumble on you. Harmony took the little sauce dish over to a trashcan and dumped it. Now she'd have to mix more sauce, and she'd probably get too much wasabi in it and burn her tongue. Loong Wang noticed, gave a nasty chuckle, and returned to his pork lo mein. She could tell he was a very mean man.

As Harmony concentrated on trying to dissolve the little lump of mean green horseradish paste in the soy sauce with her chopsticks, Loong Wang suddenly rose and headed for the door. Harmony barely had time to press the concealed button on her signal ring three times before he was out. He stepped quickly to the curb just as a van pulled up and its door slid open. In another second he was inside, the door was sliding closed, and the van was pulling away. Damn, he was good.

Harmony listened to the tinny little voices from her earplug. "Did you get him?" "No, he was too fast. Got two on the van though." "What? You mean he's already gone? I was almost ready!" "A day late and a dollar short, as usual." She beeped a query on her signal ring. Melody answered. "Stay there, Harmony. The guys will follow him, a couple of blocks back. We can't let him see us now. I'll come over and help you finish that California Roll, then we'll join the hunt."

~~~~~~~

"I see him. He's in what appears to be the yard boss's office with some other men. Most of them are standing around or looking out the windows like security types. Wang is talking to one guy across the desk, but I get the feeling they're waiting for something. You guys close up, but keep an eye out for guards or security cameras." 

Melody was crouched behind a pallet of bricks inside a vast building supply yard/warehouse complex. The van had driven a circuitous route all over Reno for several hours, a route intended to shake any possible visual tails. The van's driver obviously didn't know that it had picked up two radio tracers. Aided by tracking from Southwest HQ and spotting by Agents who were out and about in Reno for other reasons, the three agency vehicles had hung back but made visual contact frequently enough to ensure that Loong Wang hadn't jumped out somewhere. 

It had taken them quite a while to get into the yard and close in on the van's position. It should have driven off as soon as Wang got out and continued to tour the area for a while. Whoever they were dealing with here, they obviously weren't professional intelligence people. They had their moments, but they'd made some stupid mistakes, too. Maybe that's why they wanted Loong Wang. If it was, they evidently weren't taking his advice yet.

Harmony crept into position beside Melody. "Have you seen any watchmen?" she asked. 

"No, but there are some bodyguard-looking guys in there with Loong Wang."

"What do you think he's doing here?" 

"Possibly waiting for some high-up to come interview him, but I doubt it. That office doesn't look very comfy."

"So?"

"It'll take a long time to debrief him, and then I suspect he'll have an employment interview, which will take even longer, and will likely involve Mister Big himself. More likely this is just a waypoint on his journey. We need to get tracers onto his person to track him from here."

"Employment interview?" 

"We're pretty sure the Chinese government wants him dead now, so he needs a job and a place to hide. He may know the locations of other nukes that were smuggled into the country or were in the pipeline. Even if he doesn't, these guys could probably use a topnotch espionage and security expert. But to make the transition from working with to working for these guys, whoever they are, he's going to have to be vetted by at least one of their top men."

The man at the desk put a cell phone to his ear briefly, looked at his watch, said something, and put the phone away again. He then said something to the others in the office. Melody wished they had a bug on the windowpane so they could hear what he'd said.

Just then the first of the taggers crept up beside them. "They may be getting ready to leave." Melody said softly. "Can you get him from here?"

"Yes, providing I get a clear shot at him." he replied.

One of the men emerged from the office and looked around. "Get ready." hissed Melody. "This may be the only chance you get."

The man walked over to the van, got in, and started it up. Then, to the surprise of those lurking outside, he drove away. Inside, the other men, including Loong Wang, were unhurriedly heading for the door.

As the other taggers moved up, Melody reevaluated the situation. The bodyguards came out first and took up positions around the door. Then Loong Wang came out and stood within their perimeter, and last, Wang's handler. He looked often towards the front gate as if expecting cars or a van to come pick them up. The muscle were looking in all directions, but also mostly toward the front gate. Loong Wang glanced at his watch, then stood impassively, looking at nothing in particular.

Melody glanced at the taggers' leader. He whispered "We can't get a clear shot for the guards." That was what she'd figured. 

She turned to Harmony. "We're going to lead those apes away so our guys can tag Wang. You pull as many as you can off that way,"

she pointed toward the southern end of the yard, "then ditch them, pick up my car, and come around to the north side and pick me up. Don't let them get a good look at you." She handed Harmony her keys.

"Will do." said Harmony, and started to slip away.

Melody put a hand on her arm. "Be careful! Don't lose them too soon, but don't give them any good shots at you."

Harmony smiled fondly. Her big sister was really worried about her. "Don't worry! I'll be careful if you will." She squeezed Melody's hand briefly and was gone. 

Melody turned to tagging team B. "Okay, guys, there are four goons, so probably two will go to check out whatever noise Butterfly makes. I'll go over thataway" she pointed toward the north end of the yard "and try to draw off the rest of them. If any are left, either work around them or do whatever seems best in the situation. You understand how important it is that Loong Wang leads us to whoever is responsible for smuggling in those nukes. Good luck." And with that, she vanished into the night and the building supplies. 

.....

Melody stopped to catch her breath and listen. The knuckledraggers were still in the warehouse, checking in between all the palletloads of concrete mix and stuff, but they'd be after her again shortly. She'd been successfully leading the last two farther and farther away from Wang and his handler, when she'd unaccountably come face to face with the first two. They'd gotten a good enough look at her that Loong Wang would probably recognize their descriptions. That would give too much advance warning to Mr. Big, whoever he was, and he might even ditch Loong Wang, leaving the agency with only a couple of very tenuous possible leads. These guys needed to be silenced in a way that wouldn't spook the prey.

She considered tipping something heavy over onto them, but anything heavy enough to kill them reliably would likely be too heavy for her to tip over fast enough that they wouldn't be able to dodge it. All four of them dying that way was pretty improbable, anyway. Something faster, or that would be lethal over a larger area, was needed. 

Melody looked around. To her right was the corner of the warehouse she'd just come out of, and some trash barrels. To her left was what appeared to be the forklift maintenance area, with some electric ones recharging and some propane-powered ones partially disassembled. Ahead on her left were stacks of empty pallets. Ahead on her right was a large silver-painted propane tank with a valve and hose on top, probably for refueling the forklifts. Beyond that were sheds built like giant shelves, holding plywood panels and other lumber, then a high chain link fence with a street on the other side. 

There was probably enough propane in that tank to level this whole complex, depending on how much was released before it came in contact with an open flame or a spark. But she couldn't blow up Wang. Ducking into a deep shadow, Melody hit a speed dial number on her Agency phone. When it was answered she said, "Gimme a sitrep."

"We got them tagged just in time." came the reply. "A van pulled up, he and his handler got in, and they hightailed it out the front gate."

"Great." said Melody. "You guys hightail it too. Big explosion, my current position, about a minute. Out." Melody made a mental note to quit talking western.

She looked at the tank and its valve. If she opened it, there was still a check valve in the nozzle that prevented the liquid propane from being dumped into the environment. She'd have to break it open somehow, and then light the gas. But how to make sure the explosion caught her pursuers and not her? No time to set up some elaborate time delay. Whatever she did would have to be simple and fast. 

A few quick steps brought her to the trashcans. Pulling a disposable lighter from a pocket, she lit some heavy brown paper sticking out of one of them. Her time delay would be however long it took the propane to travel the seventy or so feet to this flame. Dashing back to the maintenance area, she grabbed the heaviest tool she could find, a huge wrench nearly three feet long. At the best speed she could manage while carrying the thirty-plus-pound wrench, she ran for the propane tank. 

The tank's size nearly defeated Melody's plan. Twelve feet long and four in diameter, the valve on its top was at Melody's shoulder height, and her first two swings failed to get the wrench high enough to hit it. But the muscle in the warehouse almost certainly heard her strike the propane tank. Approaching desperation, she swung the wrench in a complete circle and managed the necessary altitude. The wrench clanged off the big valve, which bent over a small amount. In the ensuing silence, Melody heard the faint hiss of escaping gas. Close, but not good enough. Again Melody wound up and swung. Again the wrench head hit the valve. This time the top of the valve bent well over. With a hissing, howling roar, a fat jet of propane gas carrying a spray of liquid propane blasted out toward the forklift maintenance shed. Much too close to the burning trash, Melody realized. 

To make matters worse, the four stooges chose this moment to come boiling out the warehouse door. They spotted her easily, standing in the open by the erupting propane tank, right under a big sodium vapor light. Two of them pulled their pistols and pointed them at her, but the one in the lead held out a hand and shouted something. Melody could hear nothing over the roar of escaping propane, but she hoped he was telling them not to fire into the cloud of explosive gas.

Melody knew she had scant seconds to attain a safe distance from the impending explosion, but she must do one more thing first. Swinging the massive wrench around once more with all her strength, she heaved it toward the maintenance shed she'd gotten it from. Her efforts would be for naught if the fire investigators figured out that the valve had been deliberately broken. Continuing her spin and praying the wrench wouldn't strike a spark, she turned around and ran for the fence.

Passing the stacks of pallets, Melody glanced over her shoulder. The goons were trying to get around the backside of the propane tank, and not succeeding. The tank was against a fence, without enough room to squeeze behind it. They'd have to actually climb onto the tank to make it that way, and they apparently couldn't do that, even though the gas was venting toward the other side of the tank.

As she ran by the lumber sheds, Melody risked another backward glance. Her pursuers were coming around by the forklift maintenance shed, skirting the tank as widely as possible. Either they hadn't seen the fire in the trashcan, or they were extremely brave, persistent, and/or stupid.

As she neared the North fence, she could see a pile of warped, weathered lumber stacked against it. It looked like she would be able to run up the near side of the pile, then jump over the three strands of barbed wire at the top of the fence. It would be a hard landing on the outside, but she could probably do it without injury. It was a fast way out and, once over, she would be shielded from the explosion by the lumber.

Melody began picking out her approach as she ran. Skirt that big pothole full of muddy water on the right side, then back to the left to miss the parked pickup truck, then...

Suddenly, the scene before her lit up brighter than day, with her long shadow slicing it in half . Simultaneously, radiated heat hit her back like a giant laser beam. The searing pain changed her plans in mid-stride, and she dove for the pothole. 

As Melody hit the muddy water face first, she felt the pressure wave roll over her. The water was deep enough that it sloshed over some, but not all, of her back side. Fearing that a huge fireball was directly over her, she held her position for a couple of seconds, even though she also feared her hair was on fire. She flipped water at her head as best she could.

When she did roll over, the feeling of blessed relief was marred by the gravel and asphalt chunks at the bottom of the pothole. A strong breeze from the North told her that air was flowing back in toward the explosion site, so she risked opening her eyes and taking a sniff. The air was breathable. A huge fireball was indeed overhead, but well overhead now, about two hundred feet up, and black smoke blocked most of the heat radiation. A mighty tongue of flame spewed from the big tank toward the maintenance shed, which was engulfed in flame. There was no sign of her pursuers.

.....

Harmony drove Melody's car along the back side of the block occupied by Dacoit Building Supply. Running in blackout mode, the black Viper had very low observability. Through the high chain link fence, Harmony saw stacks of cinder blocks, old rusty machinery, tall weeds, and no sign of movement.

Turning onto the street that ran along the north side of the block, Harmony began looking more closely , although Melody was more likely to emerge farther toward the front of the property. Harmony knew Melody would call with further instructions when she had a chance. That she hadn't yet was worrisome. Harmony continued along the fence, watching for Melody or a likely place for her to emerge and climb the fence. 

Nearer the front side of the property, there were some piles of lumber just inside the fence. One of them reached nearly to the top. This was the easiest place to get out that Harmony had seen, other than an open gate. There was an aisle leading from near the pile back into the supply yard, wide enough for trucks to maneuver and unload. Harmony stopped where she had a good view down this aisle and watched for a moment. Seeing nothing, she looked up and down the fence line. This was as good a spot to wait as she'd find, she thought, absent further word from Melody. Wherever she might cross the fence on the north side, Harmony would be able to see her from here, and she'd be able to see the car. 

Looking back down the aisle into the supply yard, Harmony's eye was caught by a dark figure running through a pool of light. It could have been Melody. Concentrating now on that area, Harmony saw one, then two other running figures further back. The security thugs in pursuit. And there seemed to be some steam venting behind them. The first figure ran through another patch of light, and it was almost certainly Melody. She appeared to be making for this lumber pile as a quick way out. Harmony made sure the engine was still running and thought a comforting thought about the Viper's armor.

Just then, an orangey-yellow flame with bluish highlights blossomed back in the yard, and grew with terrible rapidity. Heat struck Harmony's face like a blow. She flinched away, throwing up her left arm to shield her face. "Oh, God", she thought, "Melody's out there in that!"

After a couple of seconds, the blast of radiant heat diminished to a bearable level, Harmony scanned the yard again, searching for Melody. Flames were everywhere. It seemed that everything combustible in there was burning. Flaming pallets flew through the air like frisbees, and burning junk of all kinds rained down all around. But no sign of life could she see. "Melodeee!" she wailed.

Suddenly, an impact shook the car. Something black and charred-looking slid off the roof onto the right side of the hood, and rolled off onto the street. A second later the passenger door opened and Melody got in. Wet, muddy, bedraggled, and smelling of smoke, she was the most beautiful sight Harmony had ever seen. "Get us out of here." she said, as she shut the door.

Harmony sent the Viper forward, steering around what burning debris she could and rolling over the rest. Soon they were clear of the worst of it. "Melody, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Burns. Not too bad." Melody was holding onto the armrest, not letting her back touch the seat back, and breathing heavily. "Well done back there." she panted.

"Uhh, thanks. Do you think those guys..." 

"They're well done too." Melody stared through the windshield at the dark street. "Punch up HQ."

Harmony reached up to the dash and keyed in the number for Southwest HQ. Melody's finger shot out and hit disconnect before it could ring. "West Coast HQ first." she said, wincing a little. 

Looking slightly puzzled, Harmony punched up West Coast HQ. It was answered on the first ring. "Four two nine five." the voice said, giving only the last four digits of the phone number Harmony had dialed. Even with the most advanced encryption algorithms, the Agency was cautious and secretive whenever feasible.

Melody spoke at the dashboard. "Sunspider and Butterfly reporting in. Mission accomplished. Minor injuries." 

"What did you guys do? Southwest is screaming that you nuked Reno!"

"Buncha pantywaists! I blow up one measly propane tank and they have a conniption!" Melody shot a significant look at Harmony. 

"Here's the watch commander."

"Sunspider, HQ Southwest is quite anxious to talk to you, but first off,

what are your injuries? Do you need medical attention?"

Melody recognized Barker's voice. "Flash burns to my back, arms, and hands, plus some minor abrasions. I think they're mostly first degree. Butterfly?"

"First degree burns to the left side of my face." Harmony spoke up.

"We do need medical attention, but our lives aren't in danger." Melody finished.

"Okay, stop and get medical supplies, earliest convenience. Second question. Succinctly, what the hell happened?"

"We had to draw four goons away from Loong Wang so that the taggers could get a clear shot at him. Some of them got a good enough look at me that he'd have recognized their description. I took 'em out with an exploding propane tank. It was the best approximation to an accident I could come up with on the fly. The tagging was successful."

"I see. What's your current position?"

"Heading north on north Wells."

"Okay. Get on U.S. 395. Head northwest out of Reno, go to Reno-Stead airport. A plane will meet you and bring you back here. I'll speak to Southwest and convey your regrets."

"Thanks, Ops. Will do. Sunspider out." 

Harmony looked over at Melody, who was smiling a little in spite of her pain. "Isn't that a bit... irregular?"

"Yeah. I think Barker's going to work out pretty well."

"But why aren't we going to call in to Southwest HQ? It's procedure."

"Well... don't go repeating this, but I've heard the Soutwest station chief is somewhat... parochial. He tends to guard his turf. If we called in, we'd likely be ordered to come in for debriefing, and they might tend to be more concerned with the ruckus I caused in Reno than with our personal welfare."

Harmony pulled into a drugstore parking lot. "You don't mean they might withhold treatment while they debriefed us, do you?"

Melody stared at the dashboard in front of her. "I'd hate to think so, but I really don't care to find out right now. These burns hurt."

Harmony opened the door. "You wait right there. I'll be back in a minute."

Back in West Coast Ops, Barker stared at the big screen. One of the news channels was running a feed from their Reno affiliate's rooftop camera. Barker watched in horrified fascination as a giant feiry mushroom unfolded over night-shrouded Reno, Nevada. Oh, lordy. The stories about her were true.


	9. Back To School

[This is kind of a short chapter, and unfinished. Most of what I uploaded today is to be found in chapters 4 and 5. But, see, just updating a chapter doesn't put your story back on the front page... I have more on Daria's financial woes, which will probably be interwoven with chapters 6, 7, and 8.]

Back To School

.....

"Ladies, we're on final approach to Academy Field. Please rise and shine and return your seatbacks and tray tables to the full upright and locked position."

Harmony yawned and stretched as best she could in the cramped quarters of the small Agency jet, then found the seatback control and let it spring forward. On the other side of the narrow aisle, Melody looked up from the tray table and blinked.

Turning away, Harmony looked out the window. Ahead and to the right she could see some of the Academy buildings. They looked like what they were- classrooms, barracks, and other structures of a WWII-era airfield. It had been built as a flight school for pilots headed for the Pacific theater, and had fallen into disuse after the war ended. It now resembled many other such facilities across the country that had been gradually taken over by civilian businesses, except that the "civilian businesses" located here were all Agency fronts or dummies.

As the plane's wheels hit the runway, Harmony caught glimpses of a couple of very sophisticated aircraft through partly-open hangar doors. Apparently there were operations based here that she had not the faintest idea of. Harmony turned back to Melody and began applying another coat of aloe vera gel to the reddened areas of her back and arms. "These are looking a lot better, Melody. A lot of the redness is gone."

Melody made a face at her, whispered "Donna." Then she said "Yeah. they feel better too. I may live." Harmony made an oopsie face and put a hand to her mouth. Even though the pilot was an Agent and there was almost no chance of eavesdropping in the plane, Harmony knew her slip of the tongue could, in other surroundings, put her sister's life in danger.

A minute later the plane rolled to a stop on a taxiway that was usually part of the Academy's driver training course. The rubber cones and other obstacles had been removed and stacked far enough away that they wouldn't be blown around by jet exhaust, or sucked into an engine. Melody was putting her blouse on backwards. Harmony reached over and helped ease it onto her shoulders. "Did you get any rest?" she asked.

"Surprisingly, I slept most of the flight. I've got a sore neck from sleeping on that tray table, though." Melody replied, massaging the abused part.

The pilot came back and opened the door. "This concludes this morning's flight." he said. Thank you for choosing Fly-By-Night Airlines. Please watch your step as you deplane." He backed toward the cabin to let Melody and Harmony exit. 

Melody was surprised to see Barker waiting at the foot of the little set of steps. "You got up this early just to meet us? I'm flattered, I think."

"I wish. I just got out of Ops, and this is on my way home, so I thought I might as well. How are your burns?"

"Much better now. They'll probably be healed in a couple of days" Melody turned so Barker could see her back. "Did you have trouble with the Southwest station chief?" 

"Oh, yeah. He was threatening to file complaints and reports and grievances and everything else he could think of. We finally got him calmed down, though."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That you two are academy instructors and that the Academy is critically short of instructors now, so we couldn't spare you. Of course, if you're not up to it..."

"If I can find something backless to wear, I can do it. As long as I'm inside out of the sun, I won't be noticeably more uncomfortable here than at home. Harmony?"

"My face hardly hurts at all now. As long as I don't get hit on that side I'll be fine."

"Great. Donna, your Viper has a big dent in the roof and blistered paint on the driver's side. One of Team B is driving it back, but it'll be in the shop for a day or two. We just got in a couple of new ones with the latest electronics and weapons packages, and the enhanced ramming bumpers. I got the chief to assign one to you because we think you can make good use of it."

"Harmony, your Honda was destroyed by fire. Apparently some burning debris lit the left rear tire, and that caught the gas tank. You'll be assigned a VW Beetle as a loaner."

"A Beetle?" Harmony didn't comment further, but her expression was less than joyous. "Will the Agency replace my Honda? It was destroyed in the line of duty." She looked hopefully at Barker. 

"Agency policy is to give junior Agents current market value for their cars, or to replace them with cars of about equivalent value if available. I believe your Honda's replacement value is about seven or eight thousand dollars. Or there's a car in the shop that'll be ready in a day or two. It's a black Viper, although you might get them to repaint it in another color if you call down there right away."

Harmony's face lit up. "I'll take the Viper, please, and black will be fine!"

.....

Melody had made a call to one of her students in the girls' dorm, who'd promised to round up something. By the time she got there, the girls had several halter tops to choose from. Melody chose one with enough frontal coverage that it wouldn't be too distracting to the male students, but with only top and bottom tie strings in back. She wasn't burned on her neck where the top tie strings went, and, with the help of two rubber bands looped through belt loops, they were able to keep the bottom strings off her back. And they were putting her hair up in two buns, which they gigglingly referred to as 'Princess Leia Cinnamon Rolls" to keep it off her back as well.

"That must hurt like hell." ventured Masterson as she gently applied more aloe vera gel to Melody's burns.

"Very little, actually. That aloe vera is great stuff." Melody replied.

"How did it happen, Agent Pettibone? Can you tell us? Unless it was part of an operation, of course."

"She's not back on field duty yet, silly. She's still recuperating." Granger put in.

"No, I'm not, but it was, and this time, I can." Melody said. She pointed to a small TV on Masterson's desk. "Watch right there."

The TV, tuned to a news channel, showed an aerial view of a city at night. Suddenly, an orange-yellow ball of flame appeared and expanded rapidly. The camera slewed and zoomed in on it. As it reached maximum magnification, Melody's finger pointed to the bottom left of the screen. "No, I guess you can't see me, but I'm right about there."


End file.
